Tempus Mutato
by Liria y Rosa
Summary: Summer before 6th year. Harry has returned to the Dursleys and is dreading another summer of isolation from the wizarding world. Voldemort, on the other hand, has decided that to finish off the boy-who-lived merits more than one attempt a year.
1. Dreading the Dursleys

Disclaimer: I do not own the Potterverse or any of the ideas within it – JK Rowling invented it; I just like to visit every now and again.

Chapter I: Dreading the Dursleys

_Sunday, June 30, 1996_

_Arches of white marble and columns engraved with a flowing illegible script lined the room. Lying in the center of the ring, the surroundings were apparent but just as mystifying._

"_Welcome, young one."_

_The voice was light and airy; spoken almost too softly to perceive, yet resonating throughout the hall. Craning his neck, he looked up into eyes positioned at a seemingly impossible height. _

_The figure was tall and slender, dressed in long flowing robes. Not the heavy fabrics he was accustomed to, but a fair delicate cloth that seemed to float on a nonexistent wind._

"_Why am I here?" he spoke, in a voice that cracked from dryness._

_It was not the question he had intended to ask, but it seemed proper once it slipped from his lips._

_The being stared down at him with incredible pale eyes, as though waiting._

"_You will know when the time has come."_

"_What will I know?"_

"_Your destiny…"_

_He tried to sit up, but the more he struggled the heavier his body seemed to become._

"_I already know my destiny," he muttered, the white room becoming dim as his eyes dropped closed._

"_That is but a single star in the night sky."_

Harry Potter woke with a start, staring blankly at a white ceiling that seemed portentous of a fading or lost memory. Unfortunately, the reality was that Harry was lying on a lumpy mattress in the smallest bedroom of Number 4 Privet Drive during the summer before his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

As in summers past, Harry hiding in his depressing notion of a room, wishing he was elsewhere. However, unlike prior summers, he would not be allowed to cut the so-called holiday short and visit with the family of his friends. Instead, he would be forced to spend the entirety of the holiday with his relatives, the Dursleys.

Owing to his antics during the previous school year and the official announcement of He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named's return, Headmaster Dumbledore felt that the most sensible option would be for Harry to remain under the protection of his mother's sacrifice. Harry could think of no worse punishment.

Harry remembered how enjoyable the journey from King's Cross Station to the house had been…

The car ride was moderately uneventful as the vehicle's occupants were silently feuding with the world. The Dursleys seemed to be in shock from the Order's threats and, as such, were studiously pretending that Harry did not exist for the moment. While he was glad for the temporary peace that the Order had provided him with, Harry wondered how long this blessed haiku would endure. After all, the Dursleys had yet to allow Dumbledore and his warnings to deter them. However, maybe this time the threat would stick…

Dudley was sitting as far from Harry as he could, as though he might be contaminated by his cousin's mere presence. Admittedly, the distance between them was further away than it might have been last year- it seemed that the strict diet Smeltings Boarding School forced on Dudley was finally working. Petunia kept sniffing disapprovingly from her perch in the front seat; she looked as though she would spring from the car the moment they arrived at her home. However, Harry knew this passive aggressive atmosphere would not last long; the further Vernon distanced himself from the wizards, the more his foul attitude would climb. Even now, Harry could see his uncle's face beginning to purple as they pulled into the driveway.

The Dursleys all headed straight to the house, without offering Harry a hand with his luggage and ignoring his general presence as usual. At the door, Petunia glanced over her shoulder at the neighbors' houses and called out, "Hurry up and get in here before anyone sees you. And_ keep that bloody bird quiet!"_

She yelled the last bit because, as Harry placed Hedwig's on the pavement to get a better grip on his trunk, her cage tipped over. Harry quickly dropped the trunk and snatched the cage, trying to soothe his agitated friend. He looked up to see Petunia giving him a murderous glare.

"Well, if someone would help me I wouldn't have to jostle her around so much," he mumbled unhappily.

Vernon apparently also thought that Harry would not be able to manage his luggage quickly enough as he begrudgingly sent Dudley out to help. Harry could hear Dudley muttering the whole time as Vernon reminded his son to watch out for the neighbors.

"Here, carry her. I'll get the trunk," Harry offered holding out Hedwig's cage, as the trunk was the heavier of the two items.

"I'm not carrying that thing. It'll bite me!" Dudley whispered vehemently, heeding his dad's warning.

"Fine - take the trunk," Harry sighed.

As Dudley struggled with the trunk, Harry hurried to get Hedwig inside before she started complaining. Once inside the house, he could hear Dudley dragging the trunk up the stairs behind him, banging it unnecessarily hard against each one. Harry signed and wondered why he even bothered bringing the trunk upstairs, as his relatives would probably throw it into the cupboard under the stairs anyway. Finally, Dudley shoved it into Harry's room and quickly stomped off to his own, where the hum of a computer game was soon heard.

"Boy, get down here!" Vernon yelled from downstairs.

Harry knew this argument was coming and had been dreading it. His uncle was now outraged by the Order's warnings, his previous cowardice completely forgotten; in his Uncle's mind, the threats now seemed empty and absurd. Knowing it would be worse if he dallied, Harry hastily headed to the family room.

Upon seeing Harry standing in the doorway, Vernon began his rant.

"This summer you're going to have to earn your living. That means no lazing about and leeching off _my _hard-earned money. You'll have a list of daily chores: helping your aunt about the house and doing the yard work. If you don't complete these _simple_ tasks, you will be severely punished. _Understand_?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry responded in a monotonous voice.

"Now, we're letting you keep your school things, so you can't complain to those _people _in your letters. And you had better write to them every three days because I will _not_ tolerate those _freaks_ under my roof."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," he said once more, though wondering how Uncle Vernon could possibly prevent the Order from coming if they so chose.

Suspicious of Harry's lack of defiance, Vernon eyed Harry a little longer until he seemed satisfied that the boy would not retaliate.

"Good. Dinner's at seven, and if you're late you won't get any. You should be grateful we're even allowing you to stay here. Now, go to your room."

Harry turned quickly, thankful to escape.

Back in his room, Harry lay down on his bed, letting his mind drift freely. He contemplated everything that had happened over the past year, and with nothing to distract him, his thoughts strayed to his godfather and the man's abrupt death.

_The curse flying from Lestrange's wand…_

_Sirius' stunned face as the spell struck him…_

_The laughter still in his eyes as he fell from the platform…_

Trying to push the images aside, Harry shoved off his bed and looked around the room, to distract himself, only to notice the emptiness surrounding him.

"Well, since I have all my stuff, I might as well unpack and give this room some life," he reflected.

Harry pushed his earlier thoughts to the back of his mind, where they would hopefully remain, and focused on rearranging his home for the next nine weeks. Harry unloaded his possessions from his trunk and began imagining the best places to arrange them. When he finished, he was pleasantly surprised to see that the space looked slightly more inviting; instead of giving off the impression of a storage area, the bedroom actually looked inhabited. Dudley's old clothes were folded neatly in the dresser, alongside Harry's school robes and Mrs. Weasley's hand-knitted sweaters. His broom was leaning beside his desk, which now held his broom servicing kit and the many books he had received over the years.

Scattered about the room were photos of family and friends, placed in a few old and tarnished picture frames he found in the bottom drawer of the dresser. On the nightstand beside his bed was a picture of his parents dancing in the snow - one of his favorites from the scrapbook book Hagrid had given him. On top of the dresser was one of the entire Weasley family, minus Mr. Weasley who took it. They were setting up for a picnic, while Bill and Charlie charmed two tables to bash into each other over the family's heads. This battle of furniture seemed to a Weasley family tradition, as Harry remembered one such incident while visiting. Another photo was of his parent's wedding. James and Lily had their arms around each other, while Sirius, the best man, slapped James on the back, and the maid-of-honor hugged Lily.

Harry realized that he did not recognize the woman embracing his mother. He briefly wondered at asking his aunt who it was, but had visions of flying sauce pans and decided against it. However, he made a mental note tot as someone the next chance he got.

On the desk were two photographs of Harry's friends. One was the infamous trio sitting in front of the common room fireplace. Ron and Harry were playing a game of chess in which Harry was losing fantastically. Hermione was curled up in a chair reading a book and occasionally giving him hints, which tended to lose him a chess player. The other picture was taken during one of the DA meetings. Harry was demonstrating a spell for Neville, while Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Ginny watched. With a start, Harry realized that the photo contained only those who had went with him to the Department of Mysteries. Unfortunately, this brought his thoughts back to Sirius. Not able to divert his attention, the memories and accusations he had shoved to the back of his mind came rushing forward.

Everything was his fault - Cedric's death, Voldemort's rebirth, and now Sirius' death; and each time there was something he could have done to prevent it. He should have realized the Triwizard Tournament Cup was a trap and warned Cedric to protect himself at the graveyard. He knew Voldemort was there, and yet he even allowed Wormtail to get a hold his wand. He should have listened to Hermione when she tried to warn him about Sirius, but instead he listened to _Kreacher_. There were so many signs and forewarnings, he should have easily recognized the traps, but instead he decided to play the hero each and every time.

Why did he have to act so foolishly? The only reason he was still alive was someone or something always interfered to protect him and prevent his death. At this rate, Voldemort would kill him and all those he cared about - even without the prophecy.

The only way to save the ones he loved was the actively protect them, not just hope Voldemort would not attack them.

"No one else is going to die because of me," Harry thought harshly to himself.

Suddenly his scar seared with pain and he heard a voice echoing in the room.

"But how are you going to do that. I am impossibly stronger than you."

Harry fell from his bed with pain, but still tried to open his eyes, scanning desperately across the room.

"I'm right here, Potter - in your mind."

"Voldemort," Harry acknowledged feebly.

"That's right; your mother protection can't hide you anymore. Even here your mind is like an open book to me."

"Get out, get out, get out," Harry began thinking as hard as he could. Pushing fiercely with his mind, against the foreign being, he felt Voldemort's presence start to recede.

"This isn't the end, Potter, our connection growsss ever ssstronger…" he heard the maniac hiss before he was gone.

Shaking like a leaf from the lingering pain, Harry pulled himself onto his trunk beneath the windowsill. Resting his forehead against the glass, he thought about what just occurred.

It did not mean Voldemort knew where Privet Drive was or could access it, but the blood protection was definitely weakening. And the link between them seemed to be growing stronger. Probably something else Voldemort gained from using Harry's blood to revive himself. It seemed Dumbledore was wrong once again; now not only was Harry here against his will, he was not even safe and nor were the Dursleys. He would not have their deaths on his hand too.

Harry knew he should write to the Order and tell, but did not know what good it would do. Dumbledore would probably not believe him enough to allow Harry to live someplace else; no, he would probably just double the guard and make his life even more miserable. He would just send it in his mandatory letter tomorrow. Even though he was angry with Dumbledore, he would not make the same mistake as the old man and withhold information. He would not repeat that mistake.

Going over the encounter once more, Harry realized he had achieved occulmency to some degree. He had managed to expel Voldemort from his mind, but whether that was completely his own doing, he was not sure. He managed to get Snape out, but this was not the same. Voldemort was connected to him, not through a spell but through his scar. It seemed more likely that as it hurt Voldemort to possess him, it pained him likewise to enter Harry's mind. Of course, Harry had no means of practicing occulmency. Snape would refuse to teach him, even if Harry wanted him to…which he did not. He would have to try to study it himself, if it was at all possible.

Exhausted from the shock, Harry curled up against the window and drifted into a fretful slumber.

Harry stood in the center of a vortex surrounded by the faces of all those he knew and cared for. He spotted Cedric's face in the turmoil, but a flash of green light blinded him and the face disappeared. He spun around searching for a way out and spotted Sirius's outline.

"Help me, Harry," he cried, "before it's too late!"

There was another flash, though, and his image vanished.

s

The vortex gathered speed and soon Harry was barely catching glimpses of the faces before the light enveloped them. A high-pitched laugh began sounding in the distance and the vortex became only a cyclone of green light.

"Help us," he heard Ron yell from the madness. He could perceive the rest of the Weasley's pleas joining the commotion, but he felt rooted to the ground. Harry only just made out Hermione's face in the glow before he heard her screaming. She briefly came into focus and called out, "Harry, please, hurry!"

She stretched out her hand, and Harry tried to reach for her. He attempted to run but the windstorm shifted with his motions.

In the background, the cruel laugh escalated and Hermione gave a last desperate cry. Harry threw his body forward, but her form shrank further into the storm of green light.

"Potter, how can you hope to save them," Voldemort scoffed as he came into view, right beside Hermione.

Harry watched Voldemort slowly raise his wand and aim it at her terrified form. Harry yelled and lunged, but he was too late as he saw the curse envelop her in its light. Voldemort laughed once more before disappearing completely. Suddenly the vortex inward and Harry was engulfed with the cries of those he loved.

"No!" he yelled blindly into the darkness. He looked around frantically but saw only the dreary walls of his room, drenched in the light of the moon. Luckily, his shout did not wake up any of the Dursleys. Harry stood and walked to the desk that held the pictures of his friends. He carefully raised the one with Ron and Hermione.

"I will not let anything else happen," he silently swore silently to them. "Even if it means losing you, I won't let you die."

Harry gently replaced the photo and lay on his bed. Afraid of revisiting the nightmare, he lay awake trying to think of some way to avoid his inevitable fate - death.

_Monday, July 1, 1996 - 6:00 am_

Harry did not wake again until the sun began to stream through his window. He remembered lying awae in bed from some reason but the only dream he could recall were filled with the faces of his friends and a splintering green light. Trying to put the images from his mind, he threw on a pair of Dudley's old shorts and a t-shirt, and left the house to begin what was to be part of his daily routine. This was a piece of his strategy to better prepare himself - improve his physical condition. The unforgivable curses had no counter curse, so the best way to avoid them was to dodge them, and he would have the advantage if he could tire is opponent out. Maybe he could finally defeat some of the death eaters without having to put others at risk.

His circuit ran around the housing complex through the park and back again - approximately four miles in total. When Harry was almost to the park, he was already having problems maintaining his brisk jog; but with only a few meters more, he picked up his pace.

Once he finally reached the playground, he sat in one of the swings and allowed the gentle breeze to drift him back and forth. Harry focused on catching his breath back as he was panting heavily. Having not played quidditch for the majority if the last two years was really showing - he was terribly out of shape. Looking around the park Harry saw there was little there besides the swing set: only a merry-go-round, a slide, and a sandbox. Around the edge of the park were some bushes and miniature trees, which he incidentally felt left him an open target. He wondered if there was an Order member trailing him now, or if his early run had thrown them off. Wondering what he would do if there was an attack, Harry though about what else he could do to train himself. Of course, he was not allowed to practice magic now, but he could at least learn the wand movements and the theories behind the spells.

"Hello," a voice sounded cheerfully behind, disrupting Harry's musings.

Harry nearly fell off the swing, as he tried to turn around and get a grip on his wand at the same time. Harry had been so caught up in his thoughts he had not heard the stranger approaching. He saw that standing before him was a girl, about his age, holding out her hand. He eyed the hand warily without taking it, looking for anything suspicious. She lowered her hand slightly and tried not seem embarrassed. Harry noted, in the back of his mind, she had crystal blue eyes and dark brown hair.

"Well, I'm Sam Buchanan. My family and I just moved here yesterday from America."

Harry relaxed the grip he had on his wand a little, realizing that he was probably being paranoid, but still not releasing his grasp.

"Hello, I'm, err, Peter…Peter Smalltree."

"Do you mind if I sit here," she asked indicating the other swing.

Not really up for a conversation, but not wanting to be rude, he simply shrugged and began examining his shoes.

"Since we just moved here, I don't really know anyone," Sam said trying to start a discussion.

"Hmm," Harry replied unenthusiastically.

"Do you live near here?"

"Uh-huh."

When Harry noticed the girl was watching him, he began shifting uncomfortably and smoothing the hair over his scar. He wondered what excuse he could use to leave soon.

"I'm sorry to be bothering you, but have you seen a white cat with cream colored patches? Sunsweet went missing while we were unpacking and we haven't seen her since," she asked a little less friendly.

"No, sorry," he said looking at her for the first time.

She frowned slightly and muttered something about continuing her search. Harry simply nodded and got up to return to Privet Drive. Finally, panting more heavily than before, Harry ran up the drive and shuffled into the kitchen. Aunt Petunia was bustling about making breakfast in her dressing robe, and he could hear Uncle Vernon and Dudley watching the telly in the sitting room. He managed to make a glass of water before his aunt absentmindedly threw a spatula at him and ordered him to finish the eggs. The utensil was aimed at Harry's head, but he snatched it out of the air and placed it calmly on the counter.

"No," Harry stated looking directly at his aunt.

"What?" she gasped, pausing mid-step in surprise and glancing towards the sitting room nervously.

"I will not be ordered about like a house el-servant this summer."

Luckily, Harry caught his slip before he finished the phrase. Disobeying Aunt Petunia and referring to magic in the same sentence would be very unwise. Petunia was visibly flustered and did not know how to handle this uncooperative side of Harry.

"Leave," she commanded, gesturing towards the door. She pointedly turned her back on him and began stiffly tossing the eggs with a wooden spoon.

Harry left rather surprised she had not argued more. He sat at the table and waited, wondering how long it would be until he was punished for his outspokenness. This defiance was part of his plan; he was not going to be pushed around by anyone, including the Dursleys. He could not afford to be weak any longer, and his relatives were a good place to start.

After a few minutes, Vernon and Dudley joined him at the table, once they turned on the other television. His uncle eyed him suspiciously and was about to speak, but was interrupted by Petunia serving breakfast. She gave Vernon and Dudley plates heaping with food, but presented Harry with a shriveled piece of bacon, a miniscule amount of overdone eggs, and a burnt slice of toast. He could hear Dudley snickering as he eyed Harry's apparent breakfast. Unfortunately, judging by the sheer amount of food his uncle and cousin were eating, there was none left in the kitchen. Slowly munching on his ration, Harry listened as Petunia whispered furiously at Vernon, both of whom were throwing angry glances in his direction. Harry could tell the reprimand would be something terrible as Vernon's face purpled with each passing second. Finally, the man exploded.

"What is the meaning of this, you ungrateful swat! I already told you, you would be helping you aunt. And what HAPPENS! You refuse to do anything! After all these years -"

"I am not a servant and I will not be treated as such," Harry interrupted in a firm, even voice.

Dudley's eyes looked about to pop out of his head a sickly grin spread over his face. It seemed his favorite show was coming on: Harry Bashing.

"You can't…why you…you _freak_!" Vernon sputtered. His uncle's voice dropped to a whisper, as he stood and stalked towards Harry. "So you think we mistreat you, do you? Well, ponder this!"

With that statement, Vernon backhanded Harry across the side of his face. Harry felt himself leave the chair and tumble to the floor. He uncle seized his arm and began dragging him backward towards the stairs. Harry managed to clamber to his feet and looked to see expression of confusion and shock on Aunt Petunia and Dudley's faces. Harry tried to wrench his arm free, but Vernon had a terribly strong grip on him. The man was at least twice Harry's size, so his efforts were futile. After being painfully heaved up the stairs, Vernon threw open the door to Harry's room and hurled him with such force that Harry collided with his desk beside the window. Harry's vision blacked out for a second as his head smashed against it.

"I am going to work now and when I get back every one of the chores I assign you have better be done," Vernon snarled.

He turned to leave and saw the picture of Harry's parent on the nightstand. His eyes bulged in his head and swept his arm out, sending the photo crashing to the floor.

"If you mention this incident to _anyone_, you'll wish you had never been born."

Vernon slammed the door closed, but Harry did not move; he could not comprehend what had just occurred. Harry knew his uncle detested him, but never did he imagine the hatred had developed to such an extent. He had expected the man to yell and confine him to his room, like previous summers. Obviously, he was wrong. How was Harry supposed to follow his plan if he could not even stand up to his muggle uncle? Dazed and confused, Harry pushed himself to his feet and heard the car pulling out of the driveway. Shaking with pain and hate, Harry watched Uncle Vernon leave.

Pulling himself together, he walked to his bed and began gingerly picking up the glass from the broken picture frame; this had been the only one with any glass remaining at all. The photo itself now had a large crease done the center. He placed it back in the frame, hoping he could fix it at Hogwarts. He gathered all the photos and personal items he had carefully placed about the room and returned them to his trunk, along with his clothing. Until he could protect himself and his belongings, he could not afford to leave them lying about. He pushed the trunk into the corner between the wall and his dresser and threw his invisibility cloak over it. There was a chance that his uncle might find the loose floorboard under his bed, but the man would not think to feel around in an empty corner. With a resigned sigh, Harry headed downstairs to discover what his chores were. Until he knew what to do, Harry would have to obey his crazed uncle. With this thought, Harry's eyes lost their brightness and took on a dead quality.

In the kitchen Harry addressed his aunt quietly, "Aunt Petunia, do you know what chores I'm supposed to do?"

"There's a list pinned to the notice board beside the phone," she answered just as softly, without looking up from washing the dishes.

Seeing the paper, Harry quickly glanced at it before heading outside.

_Weed the flowerbed_

_Trim the roses_

_Water the flowers_

_Pick up the sticks_

_Mow the lawn_

_Wash the dishes_

_Clean out the cupboard under the stairs_

_Organize the canned goods in the cabinets_

_Clean Dudley's room (don't break anything!)_

Harry guessed that he would be able to complete the list as long as he did not take any breaks, which meant he would not finish. Not wanting to waste anymore time, Harry headed outside and began weeding the garden. Thankfully, Aunt Petunia was always meticulous about the house's appearance to the neighbors, so the weeds were not horrible. Regrettably, though, the sun was fierce and he could feel the back of neck burning. There was no relief as shade and even a slight breeze were practically nonexistent.

Harry decided to start by trimming the couple of rose bushes bordering the garden. He found a pair of shears in the shed he set to work. The trimming was one of the simpler tasks as only a few sprigs peeked out here and there. In fact, after only a few minutes of inspection, Harry felt he had the shrub in an acceptable state. Tossing down the clippers, Harry got down on his knees amidst the garden and talked the weeds. Judging by the slightly overgrown condition of the weeds, Harry expected his aunt had allowed them to multiply in anticipation of his return. Harry fumbled with a spade as he jabbed into the earth to remove the first offensive plant.

"Just something my relatives would do to spite me," Harry thought morosely.

After an hour or so of working, Harry noticed a commotion in the distance; there was a group of people standing in a circle, laughing and jeering at something in the center. He wanted to ignore it but the more he tried, the more he felt compelled to interfere - due to, as Hermione would, his hero complex. From what he could tell, it was Dudley and his gang, and Harry well remembered being the source of their entertainment. After a couple more minutes, he got to his feet. Once he was closer, Harry could easily recognize Dudley and someone he remembered as Piers. Nobody noticed him, as they were too engrossed in their activity.

Peering between two boys, Harry saw that in the center of the ring was a small animal with a sock over its head. The gang was pelting it with rocks and hooting with laughter as it jerked around. Fearful and sightless, the poor creature was scampering around in circles trying to escape, but every time it reached the edge, someone kicked it back. Over the rest of the voices, Harry could hear Dudley's voice encouraging everyone the loudest. Feeling sick to his stomach, he could not take anymore.

"Oy! Stop it!" Harry yelled just from the edge of the group.

Everyone jumped at his exclamation and Dudley spun around faster than Harry thought possible for his cousin.

"And what're you going to do to stop us?" snickered Piers.

"I think your parents would find it highly interest to know that you lot beat up little children and defenseless animals."

Some of them squirmed slightly, but no one seemed intimidated by the threat.

"Like they'll believe someone who goes to St. Brutus's," someone called.

"Oh, I think they'd believe if there were given the right incentive," Harry said raising his eyebrow at Dudley and reaching into his pocket. Harry knew if he could frighten Dudley, their leader, the rest would follow.

"But you can't…" Dudley began, a little fear starting to show in his eyes.

"Who said they didn't change the rules?"

Dudley's eyes grew large as he realized the implication, while everyone else looked bewildered by their peculiar exchange. Looking nervous, Dudley suddenly pointed off into the distance and shouted, "Cop!" Everyone scattered randomly. Harry slowly walked up to the animal, which had collapsed, and saw that it was a cat - white with cream-colored spots.

He crouched beside the poor creature and eased the sock off her head, while petting her back gently. Once it was free, the cat tried to get up but swayed slightly. Harry caught her and carefully cradled her in his arms. He walked toward the park, hoping the girl, whose name he could not remember, was still there. The only thing Harry knew about nursing for animals were the basics taught in Care of Magical Creatures class, the keyword being _magical. _Harry was not at all sure how to treat a domestic cat without any magical remedies or spells. At the park, Harry noticed that the cat was purring and rubbing her head against his chest. He smiled a little and wondered why anyone would want to hurt the little thing. He searched the park and the surrounding area, but could not find the girl anywhere.

Harry headed back to Privet Drive wondering what he was going to do with Sunsweet. He could not just let her go in fear that Dudley and his gang found her again. However, if he brought her to the Dursleys they would throw her out. As he walked up the drive, he spotted the greenhouse in the backyard; it was as good a place as any other was. He laid her down inside and she tried to get up, but only mewed pitifully when she was too weak.

"Don't worry, I'll be back," Harry said as he stood. "I'm going to get you some food."

He snuck in through the back door, and went to the kitchen; luckily, no one was there. He remembered watching a show about cats when he was younger, so he knew they were lactose intolerant and could not drink milk. He filled a small bowl with water and got some deli meat out of the fridge. He returned to the green house to find Sunsweet in the same position he left her in. Once she saw him, she immediately began purring again. He placed the shallow bowl beside her head and she began to lap the water thirstily. When she had her fill, Harry picked her up and fed her small bits of turkey. Looking her over, he did not see any wounds one her; it seemed the gang had not hurt her too seriously. The cat must not have eaten for a bit because she woofed down half of the meat Harry brought. Soon she fell asleep, purring in his lap. He delicately picked her up and placed her in a bed he made from old towels. Leaving the water and pieces of mean, he headed back to the garden to finish his chores.

It did not take long to water the garden or pick up the sticks, only about an hour, but when he went to mow the grass, Harry could not get the lawnmower to start. He looked at the motor and it seemed the battery was dead. He searched the shade, but could not find an extra battery or a charger. Knowing it would be useless to ask his aunt, he kept searching in the disorder and eventually found a very, very old mower. The long hand was made of wood and the part that was supposed to cut the grass was of metal. He got it to turn, but it was hard work pushing it back and forth across the yard, especially with no sort of motor or wheels.

He was only about halfway done when his vision started getting blurry, but Harry knew he could not stop. He had been working for about two and half hours, and realized that if he wanted anytime to himself that day he needed to push on. Besides, if he did not finish the chores in what the Dursleys considered a timely fashion, they would probably give him even more. Harry worked for another hour before he really began to feel the side effects of getting little sleep and eating a measly breakfast. He felt another bout of lightheadedness coming on and waited for it to pass but instead it steadily worsened. Harry tried to shake it off, but the sharp movement caused everything to go black and he felt himself falling.

Slowly, Harry became aware of his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was that his shoulder ached horribly and that his skin felt as though it was on fire. His eyes snapped open, but he was forced to close them due to the glare of the sun overhead. Squinting, Harry gingerly tried to lift himself up but felt a tug at the sleeve of his short. He looked to see his shirt tangled in the blades of the mower. Harry tried to tug it free, but the material ripped causing his shirt to hang off one shoulder. Harry saw that he was dreadfully sun burnt - the red contrasting horribly with the whiteness of his skin where the shirt had been. Frustrated, he picked himself up and shoved the mower forward. Harry knew he should go inside, but did not favor the idea of giving the Dursleys another insult to throw.

By the time Harry finished, he knew he was dehydrated, but at least he could work inside in the cool air, now. His skin seemed to crinkle with each movement, and though he could not feel it at the present, he knew it would hurt horribly the next day.

He walked into the kitchen to see a ham sandwich and a tall glass of ice water. Not positive it was intended for him, but hoping it was, Harry looked at the chores list for his next task. Surprising the entire kitchen was already clean. He remembered Aunt Petunia doing the dishes, but had expected her to stop and leave him the remaining ones, not clean the rest of the kitchen as well. He opened that cabinets and saw that these had been cleaned and organized as well. Not wanting to think about it, Harry sat at the table and ate the food; if the sandwich was for someone else - oh well. Noticing his right shoulder was starting to sting slightly, he rubbed the muscle slight trying to ease the ache. When he removed his hand, he saw that it was covered in blood. Figuring he must have cut it when he fell, Harry went to the sink and began washing the gash with soap and water. Once it was clean, Harry could feel that the cut was pretty deep and still bleeding, so he wanted to wrap it but did not know where his aunt kept the medical kit. Making due, Harry tore a strip of his shirt off, which was falling apart at the seams already and tied it around his shoulder. This staunched the blood for the most part, but there no hope for the remainder of the shirt; so Harry tossed it into the garbage.

Feeling a little better thanks to his break, Harry went to clean out the cupboard under the stairs. Harry supposed he ought to be afraid of the closet or, at least, resent it, but he did not. It had offered a safe haven when the Dursleys were angry with him, which he especially appreciated looking back. His uncle had always viewed sending Harry there as a punishment as it was cramped and dark, but to Harry it meant he would not be screamed at or be beat up by Dudley. To him, it was a natural part of his childhood, even though many would label this as bizarre, at best.

Now, Harry noticed, his aunt used it as a place for her multitude of cleaning products, even the cot he had once slept on was gone. Once more, Petunia's constant cleaning proved helpful, as she did not allow the cupboard to fall into disarray. Everything was pretty much in order and all Harry needed to do was straighten up a bit and dust the shelves that had been installed. Due to all the extra paraphernalia, Harry doubted he would have fit into the space now if he wanted to.

According the list, he had only one more job to do for the day - clean Dudley's room. If he could manage to finish in two hours, which was admittedly unlikely, he might have an hour to spare. Unfortunately, the Dursleys gave Dudley free reign in his room, which, of course, it was a complete disaster. Harry knew that Dudley himself would never cleaned his room and Aunt Petunia only made an effort when it was absolutely necessary, claiming she did not want to invade his privacy. If Harry's uncle was ordering him to clean it, it meant the disorder was reaching a point of no return. Climbing the stairs, Harry could hear music coming from his cousin's room.

"Brilliant," he thought, "My dear cousin is going to gloat while I do his dirty work - just bloody brilliant."

Before he went to work, Harry grabbed a shirt from his room and threw it on. He opened the door to Dudley's and stopped dead in his tracks. The bed was made, even if it was a bit shoddy; clothes were no longer strewn across the floor, though he could see a mound growing in the closet, and Dudley himself was sitting on front of the TV organizing his many videos and computer games.

"Err, Dudley, what are you doing?" Harry asked, staring incredulously at Dudley.

"Cleaning," the other boy grunted unhappily.

"Not to say this is a bad idea, but…why?"

"Cause."

"Do you need any help?"

"Sure."

Shaking his head, Harry walked to the bed and began making it in a more orderly fashion. Except for the music playing in the background, which would not be Harry's first choice to listen to but it was not horrible; the two worked in silence. When the bed was finished, Harry arranged the many knickknacks laying about the room. After about thirty minutes of working, there was really nothing left to do. Still confused as to why his cousin had the sudden urge to clean his room, Harry posed the question again.

"Isn't it obvious," Dudley said, looking at Harry as though he was daft. "Mum was pretty shocked Dad hit you, so we're trying to make sure he doesn't do it again. We don't like you much, but we're not out to kill you."

"Oh, well…thanks," Harry replied rather distractedly. He _had_ actually thought they despised him enough to ignore Uncle Vernon's behavior; it was welcome to know otherwise.

"But don't expect special treatment or anything. I still don't like you," Dudley stated glaring at Harry.

Harry sighed and walked out the room muttering, "You're not the only one."

Harry had two hours now to relax and start making some progress towards learning new spells. He could do his summer work, but he had not written it all done, nor did he really see the need. It was not as if writing some potion's essay would help him in defeating Voldemort. He had little time to focus completely on training, so he was not about it waste it doing schoolwork.

Before he started working though, Harry wanted to change the makeshift bandage on his shoulder. He could already feel the blood starting to drip down his back, and did not want to ruin this shirt. He found one of the shabbiest shirts he owned, and proceeded to the bathroom. He tried to take the cloth off his shoulder, but it stuck somewhat due to the caked blood. He took a wet washcloth to ease the wrapping off and cleaned the wound. He ripped a strip off the shirt he had brought and tied it around the wound, hopefully this time it would stem the bleeding.

In his room, he removed the invisibility cloak from his trunk and pulled out some of the defense books he had received for Christmas and his birthday. He did not have many, but it was a start. Unfortunately, after skimming through them for almost two hours, they turned out to be useless. They focused on the general ideas of how a wizard war progressed and ended and did not provide sufficiently detailed facts to give Harry an idea how the dark wizards and witches were defeated.

He tossed the works back into the trunk and spied an old Daily prophet newspaper. Pulling it out Harry searched through it, vaguely remembering seeing a section about owl orders. Luckily, his memory proved accurate and he soon found an order from for Flourish and Blotts. There was a complete list of all the books in the store, but there was no rhyme or reason to the organization. Groaning, he settled on the bed, and began to read.

After about thirty minutes, Harry had compiled a list of seven books:

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _by Quentin Trimble

_Magick Moste Eville_ by Musidoro Drakule

_Olde and Forgotten Bewitchmentes and Charmes_ by Charmanda Swick

_Barriers Within: Building an Impenetrable Mind_ by Bulkus Occullus

_Common Magical Ailment and Afflictions _by Saucanda Whisp

_Hairy Snout, Human Heart _by Romulus J. Lycant

_Curses and Counter-Curses (Bewitch your Friends and Befuddle you Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying, and Much, Much More) _by Vindictus Viridian

Harry hoped that the first three books would have some valuable information and spell he could utilize, and the least he simply wanted because he remembered the title from his first trip to Diagon Alley. The medical book would be good to have, just in case, and the occulmency reading would hopefully be more useful than Snape had been.

When he spotted the book on werewolves, Harry knew he had to buy it. Remus was not only a friend of his parents, but also him, and yet Harry had never taken time to actively learn about Remus' condition. The only time he had ever learned anything was during Snape lesson, but he had not exactly been paying attention. Maybe if he found out more, he could help.

Reading over the order form, Harry jotted down the address and other necessary information. He doubted that Voldemort did not already know where he lived, so did not see the harm in provided this information. Wondering how he was supposed to pay, Harry noticed the fine print at the bottom of the document.

_Once an order is received, notification will be sent to the Gringotts indicating that a withdrawal is necessary. A verification notice will then be sent form the bank, in which the purchaser will provide a signature and vault key with the secure return owl. The transaction will then commence and the purchase, along with the vault key, will be owled back within a week. This network is ensured to be secure by both this management and Gringotts. Should any mishaps occurs, please contact Flourish and Blotts manager, Mr. Tume, or the Head of Owl Order Transactions at Gringotts, Mr. Taxeowle._

Rolling up the order form and list, Harry woke a napping Hedwig, who hooted at him sleepily, and she her off with the papers. He still had thirty minutes until Uncle Vernon returned home, so he wanted to enjoy his time. However, all the reading was causing Harry's head to pound something fierce. In one way, he almost welcomed the pain because it was not connected to his scar whatsoever. Even so, he did not want to waste his time nursing a headache.

Sticking his head into the kitchen, Harry saw Aunt Petunia cooking at the stove. Not really wanting to get into another confrontation with her, he tiptoed in and began silently looking into cabinets and drawers for some medicine. As he opened one drawer, it rattled loudly, causing his aunt to let out a screech and send her wooden spoon flying.

"What are you doing," she yelled in surprise, spotting him standing by the offensive drawer.

"Just looking for some medicine for my headache," Harry replied trying to act normal, in hopes of putting off her temper.

"Well, why didn't you just ask? There's some in the cabinet just beside your head."

With this, she abruptly turned back to the stove and ignored him. Harry fumbled through the cabinet, before finding a bottle labeled "Migraine Formula" and a couple of pills out. He had grown so accustomed to potions that it seemed rather strange to swallow a simple pill. It was a shame Madam Pomphrey could not condense her remedies into such tasteless forms - it would make them a great deal less repulsive. Throughout this process, he saw his aunt kept glancing nervously at him and opening her mouth, obviously wanting to say something. Not wanting to hear what would probably be a reprimand for being an inconvenience, Harry turned to leave.

"One of those _creatures_ left a letter," his aunt said, pulling out a small piece of paper. "_They_ insist that I give you my cell phone number. You are to keep it on you at all times, but only use it in case of an emergency."

She held out the paper, holding it tightly as though giving it to Harry was the last thing she wanted to do. Did Dumbledore really thing he would have time to call the Dursleys in case of an attack. Harry could see it now - civilly asking the death eaters to pause in their attempts to kill him, so he could use the telephone.

"Sorry, Aunt Petunia, but you'd better not come home right now. Voldemort's death eaters decided to pay a visit, and I don't think you'd enjoy their company much."

Sighing, Harry stuffed the number into his pocked, next to his wand. He could tell his aunt was relieve to have gotten that over with, was she began cooking with a renewed vigor. Harry walked out the backdoor, hoping the medicine would kick in soon.

He went to the greenhouse, with the intention of checking on Sunsweet. He felt bad, having left her alone while she was hurt, so he wanted to make sure she was okay and still in the shed. He opened the door to see the cat curled up asleep in the bed of rags. Although, she woke up as the door creaked faintly. She gazed at him warily with golden eyes, looking undecided between darting out the door and staying. He closed the door quickly and turned on the light, before kneeling beside her. Harry held out his hand and she sniffed it before butting her head against it. He smiled and began petting her, and soon she was purring in delight. Harry noticed that she still had some water left, but that all the meat was gone; he would have to get some more if he could not find the owner tomorrow.

Soon Harry heard Vernon's car pull into the driveway, and exited the greenhouse, not wanting to give his uncle a reason to think he was doing anything suspicious. Uncle Vernon would not need much cause to punish Harry.

"Boy, get down here," his uncle called.

Harry slowly walked inside, not wanting to face the inevitable argument. Harry did not know if his uncle was still fuming, but hopefully he would just be sent to his room and ignored. Entering the kitchen, Harry could Uncle Vernon standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring impatiently.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?" Harry said, startling the man.

His uncle started, and turned to squint at Harry through his pig eyes suspiciously.

"Everything done on the list I gave you," he finally barked.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

"All of it? You cleaned the kitchen and Dudley's room?"

"They're both clean," Harry stated, trying to avoid saying he had help.

"How long have you been done?"

"I just finished, really."

"Fine, Get Dudley, it's time for supper."

Harry watched his uncle shuffle to the kitchen and sit down at the table heavily. The man pulled out a notebook and pen from his pocket and began writing down what Harry assumed was his list of chores for tomorrow. Harry could not believe he was letting his whale of an uncle win. He hated himself for it, but knew it was just a matter of time. Begrudgingly, Harry walked upstairs and knocked on Dudley's bedroom door, through which sounds of gunshots and screeching tires were emitted.

"Dudley," Harry yelled and banged on the door, trying to be heard over the din, "come eat!"

He distantly heard his cousin yell back, and assumed it was in the affirmative. Back in the kitchen, Vernon took one look at him and demanded, "What did you do to Dudley?" He seemed to think, as Harry was first, something must have happened to his son.

"Nothing, he coming down," Harry sighed.

Sure enough, pounding footsteps could be heard coming from the stairway. Harry tried to sit down, but his uncle ordered him to go and help Aunt Petunia. She already had the plates of food ready, so she just instructed him to take a couple of them to the table. Harry grabbed the two with the least amount of food and placed them at his and his aunt's seats. Surprisingly, he noticed that although he did not have as much as his relatives did, a fair amount of food was on his plate. Wondering if his uncle would try to force it away from him, Harry quickly sat and began eating. The table's other three occupants were alternating eating, talking, and watching the telly; Harry ignored them and only focused on eating his food. He had not realized how hungry he was until he put the first bite of pork chop in his mouth. Also, on the plate were peas and carrots, and a jacket potato. He could hear his cousin complaining about how the food was rather healthy, and Aunt Petunia explaining that Dudley still needed to diet some, to improve his physique. Dudley just huffed in annoyance and returned to the television.

Suddenly Vernon's voice boomed out above the conversation. Harry looked up to see the man staring at Dudley, who seemed to be confused, but a look of comprehension was slowly dawning on his face. Vernon turned to Harry, his face already purple with anger.

In an almost normal voice he said, "Dudley just told me how he found a new video game today…while SORTING THROUGH HIS THINGS!"

By the end of his sentence, Vernon was screaming and spitting across the table.

"I told _you _to clean that room, _not_ my son. Dudley is a perfectly normal boy, and has every right to live here. _You_, on the other hand, are a worthless _freak, _and HAVE NO SUCH PRIVALEGE!"

"Dudley was showing me how he wanted them organized," Harry said thinking quickly and hoping his cousin would go along.

Vernon seemed to deflate at this and looked at his son, who nodded a bit hesitantly. Vernon grunted something unintelligible and everyone began eating again, silently. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, in which only the drone of the telly could be heard, Aunt Petunia announced it was time for dessert. Harry excused himself, saying he was full, even though he had not even finished his plate.

Uncle Vernon had become unbelievably violent since Harry had returned for the summer. Dudley's simple little statement had sent his dad off his rocker, looking fit to kill Harry. Harry knew he should probably report his uncle's change in behavior, but did not know what good it would do. Dumbledore would not relocate him, and if they talked to his relatives, it would only anger Vernon more.

Entering his room, Harry saw an unfamiliar owl perched atop the back of his desk chair. It was dark brown with wispy bits of feather extending from it forehead, a horn owl if Harry remembered correctly. Harry had left the window open in anticipation of Hedwig's return, but she was still not back. The horn owl hooted impatiently upon seeing him and stuck out its leg. There was a roll of parchment and a small leather bag attached. Harry removed them carefully and began reading the letter.

_Mr. Potter,_

_It has come to our attention you wish to exact a withdrawal from your account in the amount of fifty-eight galleons. Please confirm by signing below and providing you vault key with the secure return owl._

_ - Taxeowle_

Harry had totaled the amount of galleons the books would cost beforehand and this sum matched this amount, so he just found some ink and a spare quill and signed the parchment. It took a few minutes, but he was eventually able to find his vault key stuffed in an old sock. He put the key into the pouch, and attached it and the parchment to the waiting owl. The bird ruffled it feathers importantly and immediately flew out the window.

Glancing at the alarm clock on his nightstand, Harry saw that it was 6:30, much too early to consider going to bed. He rummaged through his trunk and pulled out the set of defense books Remus and Sirius gave him last Christmas, which he had yet to look at. Harry felt saddened just be the recollection, but quickly opened the first book and began reading.

There were two books in the set, titled _A History of Dark Witches and Wizards_, and _Protection against the Dark Arts_, respectively. Neither was very thick and by reading the first Harry saw that the author only provided brief outlines of each of the people.

Neither surprisingly nor comfortingly, the use of the Dark Arts by witches and wizards to gain power dated back to ancient times. The book provided the title each person claimed, their actual names (if known), the dates during which they reigned, who defeated them, and through what method. The manes of some of the earliest ones were lost in time, but the evils they accomplished were not. Harry skimmed through until he reached the section on Grindlewald. He recognized the name and vaguely remembered that Dumbledore was supposed to have defeated him. Read the segment, he saw that the dark wizard was killed using an extremely powerful killing curse. This surprised him slightly as he could not imagine his headmaster doing something so cold.

In the back of his mind, Harry knew this was the most basic way for a witch or wizard to kill another, but Harry had never grasped that he might be forced to use the curse too. Glancing at the clock again, Harry realized that he had been reading for almost three hours. After changing into his pajamas, he lay down and tried to "clear his mind." Harry lay completely still and tried to focus on his breathing. However, every time he felt he might be close, some wayward thought darted into his head. Frustrated, Harry gave the effort up as a lost cause. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep, wondering why Dumbledore had forced him to receive utterly useless lessons from Snape.

_Monday, July 1, 1996 - 11:00 pm_

She always volunteered to watch over him during these periods. Everyone else claimed to have precious engagements, or some such nonsense. Remus could not control the changes that ripped through him ever month. Moreover, with the potion, he was supposed to keep his mind - he was not a danger, anymore, really. Nevertheless, Remus still insisted on being locked up. Ever since the accident at Hogwarts, he feared something would happen, so he locked himself in the cellar, and she always stayed to make sure nothing did happen.

However, tonight something seemed wrong. All the other times she had stayed, he made relatively little sound, but now it sounded as though he was trying to break free. If he did, she had no way of protecting herself, not without hurting him. Tonks needed help. She sprinted upstairs to the study and frantically threw some floo powder into the fire. She quickly stepped in and cried, "Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore's Office." Tonks tumbled out of the hearth and fell ungracefully onto the ornate carpet below. She scrambled up and hastily began explaining her suspicions to Dumbledore.

"And…and, I think the potion must be faulty," she finished at last, gasping for breath.

She looked up to see Dumbledore watching her with a rather apologetic expression on his face.

"Faulty," she heard Severus Snape snap from the doorway. Looking down the length of his nose at her, he stated, "I assure you there is nothing wrong with the _potion_. The imbecile must have _forgotten_ to take it."

Tonks was about to retort, her face screwed up in a very unladylike fashion, when Dumbledore interrupted their bickering.

"Calm down, Nymphadora." The mention of her given name caused Tonk's hair to change from deep purple to bright red. "I'm sure there is a plausible explanation for this, as it is both unlikely that the potion is flawed or that Remus failed to take it. Let the three of us go check on him."

"The monster is probably wreaking havoc on headquarters by now. I'm not about to wander in, and wait for him to attack," Severus stated, reaching for the door.

"Ah, but Severus, we may be in need of your expertise, if your assumptions are proven accurate."

"How can I be of any service? No potion can control him now - it's too late."

"Nevertheless, I feel it would be beneficial for everyone if you were to come," Dumbledore calmly insisted.

Seeing he would not be able to convince Dumbledore otherwise, Snape reluctantly followed the two through the grate to Grimmauld Place.

It was obvious from the uproar emerging from the basement that something was indeed amiss. Every few seconds an earsplitting howl would rise out of the commotion. Dumbledore hurriedly walked down the stairs and opened the rusting door that led to the cellar. At the noise, the werewolf stopped his incessant thrashing about and looked through the bars at the three of them. His gaze was full of such intense grief Tonks gasped and felt tears prick her eyes. Snape merely gritted his teeth and watched the beast with narrowed eyes.

"My dear," Dumbledore whispered addressing Tonks, "I do not believe this is a matter of the potion failing, but rather of Remus' emotional barriers being stripped away."

With this, the wolf let out another howl filled with sorrow and pain. They watched, unable to ease the agony of the tortured soul.

"Oh, Remus," Tonks cried out, gripped the bars tightly, as he began throwing himself against the walls of the cellar, once more.


	2. The War Begins

Title: Tempus Mutato

Author: Rosa Alfareria

Disclaimer: I do not own the Potterverse or any of the ideas within it – JK Rowling invented it; I just like to visit every now and again.

Chapter II: The War Begins

_Tuesday, July 2, 1996 - 5:30 am_

Harry woke the next morning feeling mentally refreshed, but incredibly sore. His wound had bled through the bandage, staining his clothing and the bed sheets. On top of this, his sunburn ached every time he moved. Groaning, Harry got up, grabbed some clothes, and headed to the bathroom. Moving quietly, so he would not wake anyone, Harry washed and redressed his cut. It worried him that it had not stopped bleeding, but he did not know what else to do for it. Throwing on his new clothes, Harry headed downstairs to get ready for his run. First, he wanted to make sure that Sunsweet was still all right. Leaving the back door open just enough, so it would not lock, Harry went outside.

Harry hoped to meet the girl again in the park because he knew it was just a matter of time before the Dursleys found the feline. When he opened the greenhouse door, Harry noticed that the cat was no longer on its bed. Harry searched and called her name softly, but he could not find her anywhere. Suddenly, a mouse darted past his leg and Sunsweet jumped from behind a fern in pursuit. Before he could even try to grab her, she flew out the greenhouse door into the early morning. Harry sprinted behind her and frantically scanned the yard with eyes. In the corner of his vision, he saw a slight movement and saw the cat running alongside the house, following the mouse. The mouse scampered in though the crack in the door and Sunsweet quickly chased behind it. Cursing aloud, Harry hurried back inside. Sunsweet had managed to corner the little creature beside the phone and Harry crept up behind her. He tried to reach around her middle, but she jumped in fright at the sudden contact and knocked over the small table holding the phonebook. The sound of the table crashing to the floor scared the cat even more, causing her to scratch the length of Harry's left arm. Harry could hear his aunt screaming upstairs, so he finally seized the cat, much to its consternation, and dashed out of the house.

Harry did not stop running until he was halfway to the park and Sunsweet had scratched his arm again. The cat was obviously not going to be able to stay with him at the Dursleys It would just make the situation worse; although, she was a good distraction. He wanted to put her down but worried that she might run away, Harry just coped with Sunsweet's attempts to escape. Once he reached the park, Harry tried cradling her like a child, as he did the other day, and she immediately calmed down. As he looked around for the girl, Sunsweet began to purr contentedly in his arms. After ten minutes of watching and waiting the girl was still not there, so Harry walked in the direction she had left the previous day.

There were many other joggers out, enjoying the cool, crisp morning. Harry spotted a group of elderly individuals running towards him, and noted, ironically, that they were traveling the fastest of all the joggers. Harry stepped to the side, and as each of them passed, they nodded or waved in a friendly fashion. As the last man went by, he slowed to a stop, looking at the cat in Harry's arms.

"Is 'at the cat them new folks lost?" he asked with a strange accent Harry could not place.

"I think so."

"There was a girl lookin' fer one 'round 'ere yesterday."

"Do you know where she lives," Harry asked hopefully.

"Sure. It's 'bout a block more on th' left. Ye cain't miss it. Good luck."

"Thanks," Harry called as the man began running again to catch up with his group.

After walking a few minutes more, Harry understood why the old man said he could not fail to notice the house. All the surrounding houses were a monotony of closed dark brown shutters, but one house in particular modeled pale blue shutters, which were wide open to reveal pastel yellow curtains.

Harry walked up to the front door, clutching the cat, and rang the doorbell. Someone inside yelled something and the door quickly opened to reveal a small girl, probably about eight years old. She squealed in delight upon seeing the cat and quickly grabbed her out of Harry's arms. She turned back into the house and called for her mother. Harry smiled slightly and began to turn around, when he heard a shout.

"What did you do to her!"

Harry turned back to see the little girl glaring at him accusingly and holding out the cat. Before he had a chance to see what was wrong, the girl he met at the park walked into the room.

"Chrystal, what's all this yelling about? Why are you -?"

"He hurt Sunsweet!" Chrystal cried pointing at Harry.

The older girl examined the cat, and looked up at Harry, obviously waiting for an answer.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said honestly.

She turned Sunsweet so that Harry could see a streak of blood on the cat's side.

"That's not her blood," Harry hurriedly explained. "There's a scratch on my arm, it must be from that."

Harry held out his arm to prove this, and watched as the expression on the girl's face completely changed. She took the cat from her little sister and told her to go get their mom.

"Are you, alright?" she asked stepping forward. "I'm so sorry. Sunsweet is very picky on how she's held, as you probably found out."

When she fully saw all the blood on Harry's arm, she gasped and began stammering, "You need to clean that soon, or you'll get cat scratch fever."

Harry snorted a bit at her statement and looked at her incredulously.

"I'm serious," she said looking slightly offended. "The scratch will get infected, you'll get sick, and then have to go to the hospital."

Starting to believe her, Harry said, "Well, I'd better get home then," and began to turn around then.

"No, my mom's a school nurse," she said reaching out and taking his shoulder, "She'll have you fixed up in a jiffy."

Harry gasped as she grabbed his injured shoulder and jerked away.

"No, that's alright," Harry said his teeth gritted in pain, "I think I'll just go home."

Suddenly, the little girl who had answered the door ran past her sister and gave Harry a hug around the middle; all the while exclaiming, "You saved Sunsweet!"

This caused Harry to lose his balance and fall heavily onto the doorframe against his wounded shoulder. In addition, Harry's scar suddenly burst with pain, and a feeling of anticipation came over him that was not his own. The last thing Harry saw before he blacked out was the little girl's scared face.

When Harry came to, the first sensation he noticed was something soft and comfortable beneath his head.

"Well, that eliminates the Dursleys," Harry thought to himself.

The second thing was something cool being massaged on his sunburn. Harry cracked open his eyes to see the girl rubbing something green on arm. He watched her for little, before she realized he was awake. She blushed slightly and immediately stopped. Seeing him eyeing the jar with the green stuff, she quickly explained.

"It's Aloe Vera. It helps ease sunburn, like the awful one you've managed to obtain."

Harry grimaced and tried to sit up, but realized he was still a bit dizzy.

"You'd better just lie still for a while. I'll go get my mom."

While she was gone, Harry noticed that his shirt was gone and that his arm and his shoulder were now bandaged properly, with what seemed like an awful lot of gauze to him. Looking around, Harry saw that the room was a whirl of color. Flowing like the waves of an ocean were splashes of hot pink, purple, and two shades of orange. It seemed like an odd array of colors, but the overall effect was pretty interesting.

Rubbing his scar, Harry remembered the out of place feeling he felt before passing out. Whatever it meant, it surely would not bode well for him or anyone else. Soon, he heard the girl and her mother returning, but they were arguing with one another. Harry only caught the last bit.

"Sam, I told you not to stay in the room alone with him."

"_Mom_, he just passed out. It's not like he's about to move very much."

They entered the room, and the mother quickly glanced over his bandages.

"Well, my name is Sandra Buchanan, and I believe you've already met my daughter, Sam," she said nodding to the girl.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Peter Smalltree," Harry responded, remembering to use the name he gave Sam at the park.

"As you can tell, I've got your wounds medicated and dressed, but I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for the sunburn."

"That's alright, ma'am, you've done more than enough already, and I can't thank you. But, if Icould have my shirt…"

"I'm afraid you shirt is ruined. When you hit your shoulder, it started bleeding and the cloth was badly stained. But, Sam found you a new one that could work."

"It's old and long sleeved, but it's the least girly one I have," Sam said offering it to him.

Harry took the proffered shirt and looked at the front; Harry guessed that the slogan _Backstreet Boys_ must be something American because he did not recognize them. Harry thanked her and gingerly put it on. It fit better than most of the clothes he had at the Dursley's even considering it was made for a girl.

"I really should be going now; I don't want to impose on your hospitality any longer."

"I don't think you're up for much movement right now, in fact, you may need to call your folks to come and get you. If you give me their number, I'll call them and explain."

"No!" Harry said abruptly, causing them both to look at him oddly. "I…I don't want to worry them; it would be best if I just walked home."

"Peter, you're dehydrated and you've lost too much blood. If you stand up now, I wouldn't be surprised to see you faint again. And with the heat outside, that is simply not an option," Mrs. Buchanan instructed him.

"But…" Harry stammered, trying to think of an alternative. Why did this woman care what happened to him anyway.

"If you would like, we could drive you. I can't imagine your home is too far away."

Harry hesitated before agreeing, not seeing how to get out of the situation.

"Alright," Mrs. Buchanan said, smiling friendly at him. "Sam will show you to the car, while I go and get Chrystal."

Harry got up and shrugged off Sam when she tried to help him. He had had enough of politeness, and now, just wanted to get out of there.

"Sam, why don't you drive," her mother called over her shoulder.

"Mom, I already told you, the driving age here is different. I have to wait until I'm seventeen."

"I know, but that's only a few weeks away," she responded.

Sam sighed, but did not argue back.

"You'll have to sit in the back with Chrystal, then, as mom sits in the front with me."

Harry shrugged and got in the back of the car. Soon Chrystal crawled in beside him, though she sat tight against the door. She would occasionally sneak a glance at him before returning her gaze to her lap. Not understanding the behavior of the eight-year-old girl, Harry just ignored her. Once Mrs. Buchanan got in they finally drove off.

"Now, Peter, you'll have to direct us to your house as we're new here," she told Harry.

Not recognizing his pseudo-name, it took a moment before Harry realized what she said.

"Er, sure…take a right here."

"I assume Sam told you we moved here from America. I must say it was the longest plane ride. Have you ever traveled by plane, Peter?"

"No, only by train," Harry responded without really paying attention.

"It was Chrystal first time, wasn't dear? Why don't you describe it for, Peter?"

Chrystal peeked at Harry again, but did not say anything.

"Did you enjoy it?" Harry finally asked her.

She nodded her head slightly, but still did not look up. Her mother turned around in her seat and looked at her daughter.

"Are you alright, sweetheart? You're usually so talkative when you meet someone new."

"I hurt him, when I gave him a hug, and he didn't get up," she whispered so softly Harry could barely hear her.

"But that wasn't your fault," Harry suggested. "You didn't mean to hurt me, it was an accident."

"So you're not mad at me," she asked hopefully, looking at him for the first time.

"Not at all," Harry said, and gave her a small smile.

"Will…will you be my friend," she asked openly smiling back at him.

"Sure…"

"Mommy, mommy, I beat Sam. I got a friend first! Can I bring him to the picnic? Please, please, purty please?" Chrystal begged.

Her mother chuckled and suggested she should ask her new friend if he wanted to go.

"Peter d'ya wanna go to our picnic on July 4. Mom said we could bring our new friends. It's the American Independence Day and we're gonna have _fireworks_!"

"Well, I'd love to, but -"

"Mommy, he said he'd go!"

Sighing, Harry decided not to fight with the girl. He knew he would never be able to spend the day at a picnic with the Dursleys in their current mood, but he did not feel like explaining that to the Buchanans. When they reached the beginning of Privet Drive, Harry told them to stop and let him out. He thanked them again, and waved until they were out of sight. Harry turned and started the march to Number Four Privet Drive. If he was lucky, Uncle Vernon was already at work, so he might not have to face him just yet.

Harry walked in the front door and as he passed the sitting room, an arm suddenly shot out and pulled him into a chair. He gasped, as the person had grabbed his bandaged arm. Harry looked up to see Mad-eye Moody, yelling at him for some reason. When the man paused, Harry cut in.

"I have no idea what you just said, but where did we find you at the end of last term?

Moody looked at him for a moment before nodding approvingly.

"My trunk, seventh compartment."

Harry sighed in relief, but the sound of something crashing to floor abruptly caused him to tense up again. He looked around Moody to see Tonks repairing a shattered vase with a quick spell. She looked up and smiled embarrassedly at him. "Wotcher, Harry." Harry looked to her right, to see both Aunt Petunia and Dudley staring at Tonks' hair, which was currently vivid green to match her robes. His aunt kept looking out the window hoping no one could see the vibrant woman; she also seemed somewhat in shock that her favorite vase had been broken and then immediately fixed.

"I was saying," Moody barked interrupting his thoughts, "that you should have more common sense than to go running around by yourself. What if something happened to you? Death Eaters are everywhere nowadays, there's no telling what could have occurred!"

"Calm down, Moody, I'm sure Harry had a perfectly reasonable explanation. Don't you?"

"Well, I was, err, returning a lost cat," he responded, wishing he had something more substantial.

"See it was his good deed for the day, no harm done."

"No harm done? The boy looks like a shoddily wrapped mummy," Moody declared, his magical eye whizzing over Harry's torso.

Harry cursed to himself, having forgotten Moody would be able to see the bandages. He had hoped to hide them to avoid any more arguing.

"Take your shirt off," Moody demanded.

"What!" Harry exclaimed, self-consciously pulling the sleeve snugly on his bandaged arm.

"Why does he need to undress?" Tonks asked, looking at Moody strangely.

"That shirt is hiding some wounds. I want to see how badly he's hurt."

"You know, I wish I had one of those eyes. Where'd you get it?"

"They only sell them at one shop, and the owner only sells them to people who need them."

"I do need one. It'd help a lot with Auror missions."

"You'd have to lose a body part before he'd help you."

"Hmmm…don't' think I want one that badly. I'll help with Harry's shirt." Tonks said, and with a flick of her wand Harry's shirt disappeared.

Harry shuddered in shock as the air hit his exposed sunburn and heard Tonks give a low whistle. Harry was sure his face had turned beet red to match the rest of him.

"Boy, what have you been doing," Moody asked looking him over with his good eye, while the other spun around the room.

"Working outside," Harry stated apprehensively.

Moody hmphed but put a cooling spell on Harry, which he accepted gratefully.

"Well, we'll be sending Madam Pomphrey to look you over," Moody stated matter-of-factly.

"Wha - why? It's already bandaged."

"You've obviously been treated through muggle methods. You can't expect us to just leave and hope you heal properly."

"How do you know these bandages are muggle?" Tonks asked, bending over to inspect his arm.

Moody gave her an exasperated look, which she took in stride.

"Healing spells are like those householdy charms to me, they don't come very easily."

"Besides the fact that the wounds are still present, there are clips holding the bandages together, instead of a fastening charm."

With that, Moody turned and left the room.

"Well, looks like we're leaving. Anything you want me to tell your friends, I expect I'll be seeing them soon at headquarters."

At the mention of Grimmauld face, Tonks cheery countenance seemed to fall, but she quickly smiled again.

"Just tell them I said hi and hope to see them soon."

"Okay, wotcher Harry."

Harry waved as she left, and turned to face his relatives. They both seemed to be in a stupor, staring where Tonks had just left. Aunt Petunia snapped out of it first and jumped up to pull the curtains together securely. Then she turned back to her son.

"Duddy, are you okay? Did they do anything to you?" she asked holding his face.

He pushed her off impatiently, and said, "No, I'm…I'm just hungry."

"Oh, my poor diddykins, all those nasty people barging in here, of course you are. I'll fix you something extra special."

Petunia swiftly left the room for the kitchen, and soon the rustling of pots and pans could be heard. Dudley glanced at Harry with a pensive expression on his face, before leaving as well. Harry sat on the vacated chair and waited. He disliked seeing the matron during the school year, so seeing her over the summer was going to be a nightmare. Although, he would not mind getting rid of the sunburn; the cooling charm was wearing off and his skin was beginning to itch. He absentmindedly remembered he was supposed to do another list of chores that day and stood to find it. He went to the notice board in the kitchen and saw that the paper was missing.

"Aunt Petunia, do I have any chores for today?"

"Of course you do! Vernon forgot to pin up a list this morning, he was so angry," she said glancing at him accusingly.

"Oh, do you know was I'm supposed to do, then?"

"No, but you had most certainly better figure something out yourself."

"Brilliant," Harry thought, "He already wants to kill me, so let's add this."

He walked back to the living room and tried to think of a way past his uncle's rage. The only approach he could imagine to get around it was to use the Order's threat. The intimidation would surely knock some sense into him, especially if he told him the _freaks_ had already come once…

The doorbell rang and Harry heard Aunt Petunia leave the kitchen; he followed her assuming it was Madam Pomphrey. As the door opened, he saw that it was indeed her although she was wearing a dark blue business out, to his surprise. She immediately began giving instructions upon entering.

"Alright, Mr. Potter," she commanded seeing him first, "Let's get you somewhere you can lay down."

Harry turned to walk up the staircase, he was not about to let the Dursleys see what was probably going to be a full examination, especially as the magic would make them uncomfortable. At the foot of the stairs, he heard her address his aunt.

"Ma'am, I'm here to assess Mr. Potter's injuries."

Petunia said something that Harry could not hear, but Madam Pomphrey's face looked slightly upset.

"Well, of course, you didn't do it. Why would I think such a thing?"

His ears must have been playing tricks on him because it sounded as though she was being somewhat sarcastic as she said the last bit. Harry did not have time to ponder this tohugh as the matron followed him into his room.

"Okay, lay down on the bed and we'll begin."

She hovered her wand about half-a-foot from his body, and after speaking a spell Harry did not catch ran it from his head to his toes. Harry noticed that when the wand want went over his arm, shoulder, and face, the glow surrounding it became different shades of red. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a vial of yellow-green potion.

"Drink this," she ordered holding it out.

"What is it," he asked taking it gingerly from her.

"The common name is Tanic Tonic. It can't turn your skin back to its original coloration, but it will cause most of the sunburn to lessen into a tan. I'm afraid you'll be a medley of colors until you get some more sun. For the worst parts spread some of this burn salve on," she said placing a jar on his nightstand. Harry downed the concoction quickly; knowing that if it was like any of the others he had had the displeasure of sampling, it would taste dreadful. Unfortunately, he was right, but it took affect almost immediately and he could see, and feel for that matter, his sunburn fading.

"Go ahead and take off your shirt so I can see those cuts."

After examining his shoulder and arm, she poured an orange-colored potion on them, which caused the wounds to sting and emit purple smoke. Harry recognized it as one that she used to clean his wound after his bout the Hungarian Horntail during the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. To close the cuts, she used some healing spells that Harry could not identify.

"Okay, now let's see your face."

"My face?"

"Yes, the sunburn was hiding a pretty nasty bruise."

"Oh," he said quietly remembering what had caused that mark.

Luckily, she did not ask questions, though she wore a disapproving face as she looked it over.

"Fortunately, there seems to be no other damage to you face, but I can't do anything about the bruise."

"That's fine," Harry responded sitting up.

"Are you still having trouble sleeping?" Madam Pomphrey asked.

"How do you…I get enough," he responded not really wanting to know the answer.

"I can give you some dreamless sleep potion. You won't be able to take it every night, so you don't become addicted, but it would help."

"I'm fine, that won't be necessary."

The visions themselves were enough when he was able to eventually pull out of them. To be trapped in them for the whole night would be intolerable.

"Well, if you're sure, Mr. Potter," she said giving him a long stare. "That's the most I can do for you. Now, I don't want to see you again until September, Merlin knows we meet enough during the school year."

She packed her bad and stood to leave. Harry followed to show her out the door. Before she walked out, though, she turned and addressed him once more.

"I hope you enjoy the rest of your summer. I look forward to seeing you next term, Harry, just not in the hospital wing," she said smiling slightly.

Harry said thanks and goodbye, and closed the door. He was surprised she had not reprimanded him for the wounds or commented on his room - just got lucky he supposed. Now, he had to determine how to survive the rest of the day.

He wandered around the house and noted things he could do; soon he had compiled a list.

_Dust the mantle and other surfaces_

_Vacuum and mop the floors and stairs_

_Clean the bathrooms_

_Beat the kitchen and bathroom rugs_

_Wash the laundry_

Looking at the clock, he saw it was nearly eleven o'clock, so he could possibly been done in time to have a couple of hours to himself. Remembering the cleaning solutions in the cupboard, he went to work.

After almost three and a half hours of polishing and scrubbing and his arm aching with tiredness, Harry was done. Although, just glancing around the house, you could not tell anything specific had been accomplished, the overall feel of the house was cleaner and fresher. Aunt Petunia would surely notice the difference, as she was so pristine, even if she would never actually admit to it.

Now it was time to deal with the laundry. Once he entered the laundry room, Harry realized why he had only noticed a few of Dudley's clothes hanging in the closet…most of them were piled on the laundry room floor. Sighing, Harry began to sort the mess out. When he was younger, Aunt Petunia only made him do the laundry when the household was particularly stressful because she did not trust him not to ruin any of it. Consequently, he understood just enough to get it all done in a couple of hours.

As he waited for loads to wash and dry, Harry decided to continue his preparation training. If he could not practice any new spells, he could review old ones at least. Harry found his _Standard Book of Spells: Grade One_ at the bottom of his trunk. Even though the spells were neither complicated nor challenging, they might distract a Death Eater through their sheer simplicity. Soon, Harry had compiled a list of first year spells, including Locomotor Mortis, the leg locker curse, Pertrificus Totalus, and, of course, Wingardium Leviosa.

Finally, the wash was completed, and Harry placed all the folded clothing in their respective bedrooms. Harry went downstairs to place the dishcloths in the kitchen, when he caught the aroma of aroma of Sheppard's pie. He felt especially hungry, not having eaten any breakfast and only a sandwich for lunch. He walked through the door and to his surprise Dudley was sitting at the table eating a banana. Harry had expected supper to be ready by now. The Dursleys usually made it a point to eat dinner together, as that was expected of a normal family.

Aunt Petunia came in from the kitchen and, upon seeing him standing there, ordered him out.

"Vernon's not home yet, so there's no supper," she said waving her hand as if to shoo him away. Harry shrugged and placed the dishtowels on the table.

Harry ambled upstairs to his room and grabbed _A History of Dark Witches and Wizards_, tired of researching the spells. He read for a while and began making a list of how some dark witches and wizards of the past millennium were killed. For many of them the exact cause of death was unknown, as the killer did not survive either.

"That make me feel loads better," he thought miserably.

One feasible technique was to behead the enemy, which would supposedly work on any foe. However, the most common method was to somehow weaken the rival, usually through a potion, and then cast the Avada Kedvra. It seemed that most of the dark ones experimented with potions and spells to achieve immortality, so typically it was feared that a single killing curse would not be enough.

With each method he read and wrote down, Harry was becoming more frustrated and baffled. How was _he_ supposed to kill a Dark Lord? It was ludicrous to imagine he might actually get the opportunity to behead Voldemort. The only other option he could find was to use the killing curse, and the mere thought of doing something so atrocious and vile disgusted him. For him to use the curse that had not only killed his parents but countless others, even to rid the world of Voldemort's terror, was unthinkable. He was completely helpless.

Harry grabbed the book and hurled it across the room. For a second, he envisioned Hermione's indignation at the abuse but shoved the image aside. If he could not kill Voldemort, how was he supposed to protect his friends? He and already failed thus far…No, he would not think of that. There must be something he could do…anything. However, the only though that came to mind was the curse. His only choice was to overcome his fears and become that which he hated, or to forsake the ones he cared for.

Suddenly the sound of the front door slamming rang through the house. It seemed Uncle Vernon was finally home and he was fuming. Vernon started yelling the moment he entered the house, but Harry only caught random words. Something about a blasted assistant and having to do overtime…Hearing the voice made Harry begin to boil with anger, in remembrance of that morning, but he knew he had to calm down before he performed accidental magic.

"Quidditch through the Ages…by Kennilworthy Whispy…page one, chapter one…The Evolution of the Flying Broomstick…." Harry began reciting to himself.

Eventually he was able to calm down enough to focus. If he could just stay relaxed, maybe his uncle and he would not have another argument. Until he could do something to protect himself, he would have to play the obedient nephew. Harry could make this a part of his training; if he could remain unperturbed by his uncle then he could control his emotions in almost any situation. Even if he was not in control, he had to make it seem as much.

"Hey! Dinner!" Harry heard Dudley call up the stairs. Now, it was time to test his patience.

Downstairs, Harry sat at his place at the table steadily looking at his hands the whole time.

"Boy, go help your aunt in the kitchen, you useless…" Vernon threatened.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said quietly, getting up.

Vernon seemed taken aback by Harry's compliance, at first, but hmphed smugly as he watched Harry go. Once everyone started eating, Vernon began complaining about his day at work.

"The traffic into the city was horrible this morning; it took me almost twice as long, so, of course, I was late. Then one of our most steadfast customers cancelled a hefty order of drills with no reason at all. They decided to go with the firm in the next city over - I still can't believe it! Moreover, my idiot of a secretary overbooked my meeting schedule for this afternoon, and it was a hell of a mess trying to sort that out. Two potential buyers both arrived at two o'clock and I lost both of their businesses because of the wait. I swear I'm going to fire that woman. She's only been with us for a month, but…"

Throughout Vernon's tirade, Petunia made sympathetic noises, while Dudley remained engrossed in a sitcom on the television.

"Petunia, get me some brandy. I feel a headache coming on."

Soon Vernon had downed several glasses and he was becoming red in the face. He began making threats to his secretary and called her several more insulting names. It was towards the end of the meal before he addressed Harry.

"So, boy, decided to obey me and do those chores, have you?"

"You didn't leave any," Harry said, trying to keep his temper.

"Couldn't figure out what do yourself? I knew they weren't teaching you anything at that school of yours, nothing but rubbish, at least. Maybe if we're lucky, you'll blow yourself up like your parents did."

Harry gritted his teeth to keep from responding and gripped his silverware forcefully. The scene reminded him strongly of that with Vernon's sister, Marge, but he knew he could not lose control this time.

Trying to speak calmly, Harry revealed the tasks he had completed earlier that day, but Vernon was not impressed in the least.

"You think doing a couple of chores is going to repay us for taking care of you all these years. For feeding you, clothing you, and even providing you a bedroom? We gave you a home and -"

"If you could call it that," Harry muttered angrily under his breath. Unfortunately, Harry realized he said this aloud too late.

"What did you say!" his uncle bellowed.

Both Aunt Petunia and Dudley were watching this exchange apprehensively. This was a surprise to Harry, as his aunt usually joined in and Dudley always looked forward to them. Suddenly his aunt interrupted.

"Boy, go to your room this instant. I have something I want to discuss with Vernon."

Harry hesitated for a moment, but Vernon stood and bellowed, "NOW!" Harry jumped from his chair and sprinted up the stairs. On the way up, he heard his aunt say something about _those_ _people_…

Harry was so frustrated, he wanted to hit something or scream, but instead he just fell onto his bed and stuffed his face into the mattress. He had remained calm, but it felt like torture to do so. How was he supposed to survive a whole summer of this when he could barely stand one meal? If he informed the Order, they would just threaten his uncle again and probably make matters worse. No, he would have to do it himself. He had to stand up to the man. Now that he knew what to suspect, he would be prepared and take control of the situation himself. Harry was smaller and faster than his whale of an uncle, he could escape.

With these thoughts in his mind, Harry drifted off to sleep.

_Wednesday, July 3, 1996 - 6:30 am_

Harry woke up early once again and went out for his morning run. The night had been filled disturbing dreams and odd feelings of satisfaction that he could not place; however, by the morning, he had all but forgotten them. The four-mile route was just as hard as it was two days ago, but this time he did not meet any strangers. Harry enjoyed having this freedom in the morning to do as he pleased. It seemed the only time of the day he truly had to himself. With the sun just risen, and the other early morning joggers around, it was very peaceful. When Harry returned to Privet Drive, he sighed not wanting to leave the tranquility. Inside, he could hear Petunia working in the kitchen, but it seemed everyone else was still asleep. Harry was able to enjoy a nice shower and return to his room before his uncle got up.

Thirty-minutes later, Harry could put off going downstairs no longer. He intended to stand up to his uncle today, and he had a plan. He would pretend to listen to his uncle, so he would not have to face the man until he was home from work. Everyone was already seated at table eating, and a plate was situated at his usual seat. The moment he sat his uncle began listing him his responsibilities for the day.

"Today you are going to clean the garage, the tool shed, and the greenhouse. I can't even tell you did anything yesterday, so today you had better finish everyone one of these tasks."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

"And make sure you write to those _freaks_! Petunia told me they stopped by yesterday, and I will _not _stand for that. You tell them that under _no_ circumstances are they to return. If you mention anything that might make them come back you'll regret it with all your being, do I make myself _clear_?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

Vernon nodded before getting up, and mumbled something about people finally listening to him. He grabbed his briefcase, gave Petunia a quick peck on the cheek, and was gone. Now was time for the second part of his plan.

"Aunt Petunia, I have something to say," Harry began.

Both his aunt and Dudley looked up at Harry's odd statement. Harry could tell his aunt was slowly becoming angry.

"I am not going to be pushed around by him any longer. He has no right to abuse me, and you know it. Consequently, I will not be doing those chores. I won't mention Uncle Vernon in my letter this time, but if his behavior keeps up, I will. _They _wouldn't be happy to know what he's been doing. I know you were as shocked by his actions as I was, but it just can't continue."

With that, Harry stood and went upstairs to his bedroom. He left both his aunt and Dudley looking indignant but somewhat confused. They seemed to be struggling to decide whether to agree with him or Vernon. He knew his threat was empty, as he did not intend to mention any of this to the Order, but the Dursleys did not need know that.

Once Harry entered his room, he saw that Hedwig was finally back. She was sitting on the outside of his window, so Harry quickly threw it open. She flew in hooting happily, and landed on his shoulder.

"Hey, girl, that must've been a long trip."

She hooted in response and flew to her cage. Harry shook some owl treats into the dish and refilled her water bowl. She gratefully took a few gulps. As it was his third day at Privet Drive, it was time for to write to the order. Harry wondered whom he was supposed to address the letter to, and settled on Remus. He supposed he should write it to the head of the organization, Dumbledore, but he simply did not trust him after last year. By sending the letter to Remus, he might actually get some sort of response.

_Dear Remus,_

_ I'm writing to you as part of the promise that I would send letters send every three days. Everything is going as it usually does. I don't want to be here and the Dursleys don't want me here. You've got my relatives quite frightened with the threat, and with Moody and Tonks showing up yesterday. Do you know when I'll be able to leave? Has anything happened that I need to know? Well, other than that, I'm doing fine and hope to see you soon._

_Harry_

Harry tied the letter to Hedwig's leg and apologized for sending her out so soon. She nipped his finger a little, but did not seem to mind too much.

With so much free time today, Harry figured he might as well continue reviewing spells. After reading through the rest of the _Standard Book of Spells_ series, Harry had added quite a few curses, jinxes, and charms to his list.

_Accio_ - Summoning Charm

_Confundus_ - Confusion Charm

_Conjunctivis_ - Poor Eyesight Curse

_Diffindo_ - Tearing Spell

_Engorgio_ - Enlarging Charm

_Expelliarmus _- Disarming Charm

_Furnunculus_ - Boil Producing Curse

_Impedimenta_ - Charm that Slows Objects

_Impervius_ - Water Repelling

_Incendio_ - Fire Starting Spell

_Locomotor Mortis_ - Leg Locking Curse

_Mobiliarbus_ - Object Moving Charm

_Mobilicorpus_ - Body Moving Spell

_Petrificus Totalus_ - Body Binding Spell

_Protego_ - Shielding Charm

_Reducio_ - Shrinking Spell

_Reducto_ - Blasting Spell

_Rictusempra_ - Tickling Charm

_Serpensortia_ - Snake Producing Spell

_Stupefy_ - Charm to Knock Out Opponent

_Tarantallegra_ - Dancing Spell

_Wingardium Leviosa_ - Hovering Charm

Hermione would be proud of him as Harry even alphabetized the list. He did not really know if many of these spells would ever help him in a duel, but it could not hurt to make them second nature. Instead of using his wand, Harry used the handle of a broken feather duster and practiced the spells. He went through the exact motions, hoping that if he was ever caught by surprise he could automatically cast one of these spells.

"_Stupefy,_" Harry uttered in a furious whisper, hoping to avoid the attention of the Durlseys.

He spun on his heel and called "_Reducto!_"

After repeating the different spells for about an hour, Harry pulled out _Protection against the Dark Arts_, it could not hurt to look at some more spells. The book consisted of two sections, one on defensive maneuvers and the other on offensive attacks; Harry opened to the defense section first. The author was very adamant that the best offense was a good defense and described situations where being defensive saved lives. If Harry understood correctly, there were essentially four kinds of shields that could be utilized in a duel to protect one's own body, and each one was progressively more difficult to conjure. The first was _protego_, which Harry had already mastered. The second was _Protego Porus_, which would encase the caster in a full body shield but would repel spells in random directions, which carried the risk hitting allies as well as enemies. This spell required more concentration to cast and maintain, but allowed one to cast spell through it for a short period of time. However, with each spell that hit the shield, it grew weaker until finally dissipating. The third spell, _Protego Tangibilis_, created a small physical shield. The drawback was, as the shield was relatively tiny, the caster had to ensure that the opponent's spell is caught directly on it or the shield is useless. It is also believed that this shield could theoretically prevent an unforgivable curse from reaching one's body, if it was produced strongly enough. However, such an event had yet to be performed successfully, as it is extremely difficult to create such a thing from thin air. The fourth, and final, spell, _Protego Amplus_, had the ability to absorb a spell and then use the energy to temporarily strengthen the shield, but few but the most accomplished duelers were able to use this incantation.

Once more, Harry took up his fake wand and proceeded to practice performing each of the spells. If anyone walked in on the scene, they might have thought Harry was dancing by the way he jumped about and waved his arm. By the time he finished, it was almost one o'clock in the afternoon and time for a spot of lunch. After eating a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich, Harry decided to read further into the defensive techniques book. Other options the book provided were physical attacks on one's opponent or dodging a spell. Glancing over these segments, Harry read that to fight properly in a duel, a wizard or witch must be ready for strenuous activities. The more physically fit opponent has the advantage because the wizard or witch can tire the other out. However, sometimes, the best option in a fight was to run away. The book then went on to detail some attacks one could use to surprise an opponent. Witches and wizards of the current age shunned physical work, in general, so the best approach may not be the most modern but the most unexpected. Harry agreed with the author, but did not know how he might practice such moves. First, he would have to find a way to learn them, and secondly he would need a partner. Harry made a note to look into the lesson further, and put the book away. For the next few hours, he practiced mixing the curses and jinxes he had reviewed with the new shielding charms.

Exhausted, Harry finally fell onto his bed around seven o'clock. Once again, he was starving, but he had not heard his uncle return home from work and knew that meant no dinner, yet. Harry was surprised his aunt had not interrupted him at one point, and argued with him for confronting her that morning. No one had said a word to him, and frankly, Harry was enjoying it. The two days of chores had only wasted his time; now, he could really begin training himself. Nevertheless, Harry knew he still had one more confrontation - with his uncle. He planned to tell Uncle Vernon that he had informed the Order of his uncle's actions, so if anything else happened, they would be prepared to take action.

Harry walked to his window, wondering how everything would work out. Looking over the trees, he saw an owl flying towards the house. Opening the window, the creature soon flew in and landed on his bed. Harry saw that a newspaper was clutched in its claws, along with a letter tied to its left leg. Unfastening the parchment, Harry read Hermione's handwriting across the front.

_Dear Harry,_

_ I hope you are enjoying the beginning of summer break, and not obsessing about what happened too much. I know it's hard, but you can't let yourself become depressed. We're all here for you, if you want to talk with anyone just send a letter. Now, you probably didn't write down your summer assignments (I know Ron certainly didn't), so I've included a list of all your tasks. I can't wait to get started on mine; some of the projects look so interesting!_

_ I know you aren't getting the Daily Prophet anymore, so I sent you my copy for today. There's an article on the front page you should to read, and I'm afraid it's not good news. I hope to see you soon; maybe we can all meet in Diagon Alley towards the end of summer._

_ Love from, _

_ Hermione_

Harry looked in the envelope and saw Hermione had written three full pages of summer assignments. Tossing the papers on his desk, Harry pulled open the Daily Prophet. On the front page, was a large title stating:

_MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN PRISON_

_Only a short while ago ten Death Eaters were captured by highly trained Aurors in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. These ten criminals were sentenced to lifetime imprisonment in Azkaban for their terrible deeds. However, they have now escaped from the strong hold with help from none other than You-Know-Who himself. Late last night, the prison was attacked by no less than four figures riding broomsticks. The island on which the prison resides is unplottable and thus nearly impossible to find. There are also anti-apparation wards, but for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, this was no obstacle. The few human guards on duty were brutally cut down by means of the Killing Curse. Moreover, not only were the ten Death Eaters released but also anyone who was willing to join them. Those who refused were either killed or suffered the Dementor's Kiss. The reason we, at the Daily Prophet, know so much about the process through which the prisoners were released is that a letter was left by the Death Eaters. However, the ministry has restricted access to this document, and we know only what they have felt fit to release. The question is: were the Death Eaters able to reach the virtually nonexistent island through sheer skill and luck or were they guided there? Are the guards of Azkaban, the dementors, under the Ministry's control or have they completely sided with You-Know-Who? So far, there have been no massive dementor attacks on witches and wizards or muggles, but this reporter believes it is just a matter of time. It seems that we are truly at war._

_June Beatile_

Following this article was a photo of the ten Death Eaters, each of whom were either smirking or laughing. Beneath each photograph were the name and a brief description of their crimes. Below that was a caption that read, "The ministry has not yet released the names of the prisoners who joined You-Know-Who's forces, nor those who were killed or kissed in defiance."

Harry sat heavily on his bed and let the newspaper fall to the floor. All the good that had come out of the battle last June, was being undone. Not only had Voldemort gotten his supporters back, he had also gained new ones and the undeniable support of the dementors. As the reporter stated, it was only a short time until the attacks began - dementor and wizard, alike.

The sound of the front door being slammed open interrupted Harry's thoughts.

"Déjà vu," Harry thought dully.

Picking the paper up and tossing it onto his table, Harry headed downstairs. Aunt Petunia had just finished placing the plates on the table, when he entered.

"Petunia, get me some whiskey. Work was _bloody _horrible, again! I yelled at the secretary for my _bollocked _schedule yesterday, and she quit! The _nerve _of her! It will takes weeks to replace her, so I will have to do the filing _myself_. Can you believe it? It's like someone is purposefully trying to _ruin _my life!"

"Now, Vernon, dear, of course no one is…" Petunia said soothingly.

"_And_, we lost another buyer today. Just randomly called and cancelled three whole orders! Nobody is doing what they're supposed to…"

After his rant, Vernon took a gulp of whiskey, causing his face to redden, and began eating his steak in silence. Harry was grateful his uncle had not turned his anger onto him just yet. He, at least, wanted a full stomach before facing him. Once again, it was not until everyone was nearly finished eating that Uncle Vernon addressed Harry.

"So, boy, I assume you finished those easy tasks I set you," Uncle Vernon asked.

Harry could see both Aunt Petunia and Dudley's tense up at these words.

"Actually, no, I didn't," Harry said looking straight at his uncle.

"Are you telling me that you didn't do one _single_ thing while I was at work?" Vernon said through gritted teeth.

"Yes."

"Well…WHY THE BLOODY HELL NOT!" Vernon bellowed.

"I told you, you can't order me around. I've already written my _friends_ and told them about you."

"Why haven't they come, yet, then? I don't see your so-called friends running to your rescue."

Harry had not been prepared for his uncle to challenge him. Trying to think of something to say, Vernon stood up and began stalking towards Harry, the man's face purple with rage. Harry stood and pulled his wand out; he had hoped it would not come to this.

"You can't use that thing, they'll expel you."

"How do you know that haven't changed the rules," Harry said, repeating his words to Dudley from yesterday.

Vernon stopped, some doubt appearing in his face.

"Now, I'm going to my room and you are going to leave me alone, for the rest of the summer. I don't want to hear about your bad days at work; for all I care, you can get fired."

Slowly backing away from the table, Harry left the dining table and returned to his room, sighing in relief. Hopefully, his uncle would give up. He could hear the man bellowing downstairs and his aunt yelling back. Harry almost felt sorry for Dudley, sitting in the midst of it, but then he heard his cousin's voice join the din.

"Oh, well," Harry thought, "Let them argue, as long as they leave me out of it."

Distracting himself from the noise downstairs, Harry pulled out the summer assignments his professors had given for the break. Hermione had written everything down for him in alphabetical order in her meticulous handwriting.

_Astronomy_

_ During the third week of August choose a day to observe the heavens. Create a replication of the night sky and label the planets, starts, and other applicable heavenly bodies. Be sure to specify what night and during what time span you recorded the data._

_Extra Credit_

_ Explain any strange or extraordinary phenomena. This is supposed ot be an exciting week for the astronomical world. Correctly identify the event and give an explanation as to what may have caused it._

_Care of Magical Creatures_

_ Research a creature that has not been discussed in class and write three to five feet concerning it. Include why you chose this creature, a description of its appearance, its special attributes, and how you would classify it (disregarding Ministry guidelines)._

_Extra Credit_

_ Come into contact with the creature and take a picture or some type of recording for proof. Describe how being in its presence affected you and what you noticed about it the most (physically or otherwise)._

_Charms_

_ Write three to five feet on five spells that you have found most useful over your time at Hogwarts. Include a brief history on each spell (creator, when, how why, etc), the practical uses for the spell, potential applications, and a situation in which you found the most spell most helpful. _

_Extra Credit_

_ Create a new spell or write out how to fashion an original spell. Research the measures necessary to complete such a task, list them, craft an appropriate incantation and explain why you chose it, clarify the purpose of this spell, and include any other interesting and relevant information._

_Defense Against the Dark Arts_

_ Due to the ineffectiveness of the professors tenure at Hogwarts that is no formal summer assignment._

_Extra Credit_

_ Compile a list of spells, curses, creatures, and other topics you feel would be beneficial to study in the upcoming year. These suggestions will be taken very seriously, so please spend the appropriate time and effort on this task._

_Divination_

_For two weeks, record you dreams in a diary and interpret their hidden meanings. Be sure to include thorough descriptions of the dream and the possible significance of each instance and happening. If you cannot remember a dream for a night, use another form of foretelling (including but not limited to tea leaves, crystal balls, incense smoke, etc) to predict your future. Do not repeat any methods._

_Extra Credit_

_ Include the history of the techniques used and record any personal experiences with each one._

_History of Magic_

_ Compose a letter, three to five feet in length, to the Minister of Magic detailing why you believe a group of magical creatures should or should not have a restriction on them. Be sure to include the history of the creature that is relevant to your viewpoint, any personal accounts that have influenced your beliefs, and what restrictions should be placed or removed on the creature. You may work in groups on this assignment of you so desire._

_Extra Credit_

_Conduct an interview with your creature of choice or a handler thereof. The interview must include commentary on why the creature should or should not be regulated. Be sure to have some direct recording of the interview (written, vocal, visual, etc)._

_Potions_

_Pick a magical substance and write three to five feet on the this ingredients uses in potion making. Include why you chose the element, where it is found in nature or otherwise, how it is obtained, how to properly handle it, unique qualities and distinguishing traits, general uses, potions the ingredient is used in, and how it can help or harm other potions._

_Additional Assignment_

_Brew a potion that has the selected ingredient as its main component. The potion must be finished before Winter Holiday, due to time limitations and ingredient restrictions._

Aside from the meaningless Divination homework, Harry was not bothered by the load of homework he had this summer; in fact, he was actually interested in some of it. He was moderately positive he passed the OWLs for Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, and Charms; but he was a little worried about the others. Astronomy and History of Magic both had interrupts in the middle of the examinations, and he honestly was not sure about Divination or Potions.

Remembering McGonagall's promise that she would help him become an Auror, Harry felt as though he should work on the potion's assignment. It was probably going to be the most difficult and time consuming one. After reading the directions again, Harry felt some of his enthusiasm drain.

"Brilliant," Harry muttered to himself. "No matter how I do on the assignment he can fail me by saying I picked a poor ingredient. And all I have to research from are my old textbooks."

Hoping he might get lucky, Harry pulled his five potions texts out and began looking through the indices. After flipping through the fifth-year book after almost an hour, Harry become frustrated and tossed the book onto the floor. He was not able to find an ingredient that did not seem to common for his Professor or too boring for his own tastes.

"Why do I need to do this?" Harry thought difficultly.

It was not as though he would be able to find a potion that could defeat Voldemort. Even if he did, he would probably brew it wrong; although, that in itself might kill the madman. Harry's mind wandered away from the assignment as he imagined using the snake's own poison against him.

"Hey, I can use basilisk venom!" Harry realized, as his past encounters flew through his mind.

If not the venom then either the scale, or fang, or some part of the king of snakes is probably used in a potion. He had personal experience basilisk, and even Snape could not fault him for this topic if he wrote the essay properly. Of course, only brief mentions and vague references to dark and mysterious potions were mentioned in his textbooks, but he could ask Remus to look in the Grimmauld Place libraries. Satisfied, Harry began reading through some of his potions book that might prove helpful in later research.

As he scanned the lines of text, Harry's eyes began to droop and soon he drifted off to sleep.

_It was a few moments before Harry realized that he was no longer lying on the rigid bed in his room at Privet Drive. Instead, he was seated in a large circular room barren of decoration except for the chair in which he sat and a sizeable hearth directly across from him. Inside of the grate a small blue flame was flickering feebly, its warmth could not be felt in the faintest across the breadth of the room. Basking in the apparent heat of the fire was a great snake curled tight with its eyes shut._

_With a start, Harry recognized the snake as Nagini, Voldemort's familiar; looking around for the monster, he realized that he was once again trapped inside of Voldemort's mind. __Harry, or rather Voldemort, was sitting in the center of the hall apparently waiting for someone impatiently. Soon, t__he hissing sound of Parseltongue informed him that his servants had finally arrived. __A man glided through the solitary door and hurried towards the chair to kiss the hem of his master's cloak._

"_You are late once again Snape," Voldemort said with a disappointed hiss._

"_I am sorry my lord, the old fool insisted I remain after the meeting," Snape responded bowing so that his forehead almost grazed the floor._

"_If your task is not yet complete, you will have caused me great displeasure."_

"_The potion is finished, my lord, and ready for use. I have a sample here," Snape said as he pulled a small flask out of his robes and presenting it to Voldemort._

"_Then you have done well, my servant," Voldemort answered, his eyes steady on the flask as he clasped it delicately._

"_Thank you, my lord."_

"_Give the potion to Avery and instruct him to proceed as planned. Wormtail is waiting outside with your reward. You may go."_

"_You are too gracious, my lord," Snape declared, once again kissing the robe._

_Voldemort watched as his spy left, his mind already focusing on the potion again. At long last it was ready. He had given the task to Snape months ago, and was almost ready to hand it over to another, but his servant had finally come through.  
_


	3. Healing Fresh Wounds

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is the property of JK Rowling, of course.

* * *

_Thursday, July 4, 1996 - 6:00 am_

Harry vaguely remembered the vision of Voldemort amidst a series of nightmares. He had woken up shortly after the vision, but did not have time to contemplate the meaning before he dropped off once more. Once again he was forced to watch his friends cry for help while he stood there powerless to aid them. Shoving the images aside, Harry threw on his clothes and jogged down the stairs. To his surprise, his uncle was sitting at the kitchen reading the newspaper. Harry could see an article about "several escaped convicts carrying dangerous weapons…" across the front page. Uncle Vernon looked up to see Harry reaching for the door, and a triumphant look came into his eyes.

"What are you doing sneaking out so early in the morning, boy?" his uncle demanded.

"I'm going for a run," Harry responded truthfully, wondering if this statement would be accepted.

"Why?" Vernon asked suspiciously.

Harry shrugged and answered, "To get in shape…"

"How do I know you're not meeting any of your friends?"

"None of them live around here," Harry said, purposefully forgetting Mrs. Figg.

"Well, you'd better make it a long jog, then, because I don't want you returning until I've left for work."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said, watching his uncle begin reading his newspaper again.

Instead of stopping his route at the park, Harry decided to continue up the road, near where the Buchanans lived. He did not want to meet the family again and have to start a conversation, so he turned a block before their house. Harry did see the old man who gave him directions, and waved back chuckling when the old chap waved vigorously at him across the road. Harry thought it was odd that on this side of the park there were many joggers out, but on his side he could not recall a single one. Shrugging it off, Harry began jogging the way back to the house.

Once he reached the park again, Harry thought he could hear someone panting behind him again. However, every time he looked there was no one there. At the swing set Harry reached into his pocket and grasped his wand, before calling out,

"I know you're there…so come out."

To his surprise, Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped out from beneath an invisibility cloak, dressed in a muggle suit.

"Hello, Harry," the man greeted in his deep voice.

"When did I first meet you?"

"When a group of us escorted you to headquarters last summer."

"Okay…are you _following_ me?"

"I'm afraid so. After you gave us the slip yesterday, we've set someone to always be with you outside the house and, if need be, to trail you."

"Did anyone think to tell me about this," Harry asked irritated, sitting heavily on the swing.

"Dumbledore felt it would be best not to inform you, unless you found out on your own. I'm rather embarrassed you caught on to me so quickly, but this suit is so hot."

Seeing that Harry was still unsatisfied, Kingsley began to elaborate slowly.

"We only watch you when you are outside the house. Otherwise, we are looking for anyone or anything suspicious around Privet Drive."

"And you won't leave, will you?" Harry asked.

"No," Kingsley responded without hesitation, looking Harry directly in the eye.

Without another word, Harry got up and began running again. He ran as hard as he could, hoping in the back of his mind the auror would not be able to keep up. Harry could not believe after everything that had happened Dumbledore was still keeping him clueless. The man might consider this something small, and thus not important enough for Harry to know, but it was these little things that kept Harry's trust in him. Dumbledore was pushing Harry farther away with each move he made.

Back at the house, Harry found a note on the kitchen table.

_Dudley and I are out running errands for the day. There's plate of food in the microwave for you, so there's no need to touch anything else. When you finish wash your dishes and go to your room. You are not to make any mess, or use any of our things._

Harry's breakfast consisted of porridge and kippers, which he ate quickly. After putting away his bowl and spoon, Harry went to his room and pulled out _Protection against the Dark Arts_. Turning to the section on offensive spells, he began reading.

_ Although the best offense is a good defense, it is sometimes necessary to directly attack your opponent. There are many different ways in which to remove the adversary. There are three main categories: determination, deception, distraction. _

_ The first method can only succeed through sheer determination. The objective is to shoot as many high-level curses as you can, as fast as you can. If you keep your adversary blocking and dodging enough, they will eventually make a mistake and fall prey to one of your spells. This approach requires the least amount of strategy and is thus most useful during an ambush or similar situation. _

_ The second option, as the name implies, is to deceive the opposing witch or wizard into believing that your arsenal of spells is minimal and primitive. For this method to be useful it is advisable to only respond to your opponents spells with basic grade-level curses and jinxes; once your foe has become relaxed and overconfident, release a barrage of advanced spells to overcome him. In order to successfully carry out this method, your knowledge of shielding charms must be solid and your dodging skills more than adequate. While you are only casting simple jinxes and curses, your opponent will be using truly damaging spells._

_ The third technique is to distract the foe by using spells that he or she can dodge or block, and at the same time create a trap. This means that the spells you use to sidetrack your opponent must be serious enough to force your opponent to concentrate on them and not on the trap you are creating. This trap can range from transfiguration, to potions, to the strategic placement of objects from the surroundings._

Harry read the book for a couple of hours more, but he had yet to find any mention of actual offensive spells. Putting it away, Harry got the piece of wood he had practiced with yesterday and began running through his list of spells. He was getting better at remembering them all, and only had to actually check the list a couple of times to verify them.

However, Harry was distracted from his exercise, when his bedroom door was abruptly flung open to reveal the rotund form of Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped aside in surprise, especially as it was only around eleven o'clock and too early for his uncle to be home. The man's face was contorted with rage, more so than Harry had ever seen it. Vernon barged into the room, his arms flailing wildly, apparently unable to speak through his fury.

Finally he bellowed, "How did you do it!" throwing spit into Harry's face.

"Do what?" Harry asked, slowly backing towards his wand.

"Did you _bewitch_ them or…or put some sort of _enchantment_ on them!"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said, truly frightened.

The moment Harry placed his hand on his wand Vernon noticed what he was doing.

"DON'T YOU DARE," he screamed and lunged at Harry.

Harry was halfway through the body-binding curse when his uncle tackled him and yanked the wand out of his hand. Holding Harry by his throat, Vernon threw the wand into the hallway.

"You were going to do the same thing to me, weren't you?"

Harry was struggling to inhale, but managed to breathe, "_Do what?_"

"Do - do what?" his uncle spluttered. "You and your abnormality are the reason _I_ got _fired _today. That's what you doing this morning, not running. _You _caused _everything _to GO BLOODY WRONG!"

Harry managed to twist out from his uncle's grip and started scrambling away.

"I don't have anything to do with that! Why would I want to get you sacked!"

"You're trying to punish me for giving you those chores! Well, you can't do anything without your stick. You didn't want to do those chores…well, now I'm going to make sure you _can't_."

Without delay, Vernon grabbed Harry's ankle and dragged him back. Harry tried to kick at the man, but he physically threw Harry against the wall. While Harry's attempted to get up, Vernon lashed out with his foot and caught Harry in the stomach, causing him to collapse. Harry tried to protect himself by curling into a ball, but his uncle continued to kick at his torso and head. When Vernon paused for a moment, Harry unbent a little but the man immediately kicked him under the chin. From then on, Harry did not remember anything.

Harry went in and out of consciousness for the next few hours. Occasionally, he thought he heard yelling downstairs, but he was never alert enough to find out. It wasn't until the afternoon that Harry awoke long enough to get his bearings. He was still lying on the floor, but when he tried to get up a very cold pain ran through his stomach. Deciding to just lean against the wall, Harry tried to figure out how badly he was hurt.

Everything was out of focus, but Harry could not see well enough to find his glasses. His right eye was almost swollen shut, and he had a split lip. His arms had taken the brunt of the beating and were now covering with many bruises and small cuts. Harry's torso was also covered with bruises, but the only thing that really hurt was his stomach when he moved. Oddly, enough, he did not feel very hungry, even though, from what he could tell, it was late afternoon.

Sighing, Harry tried to figure out what he was going to do. His wand was either in the hallway or in his uncle's possession - hopefully, the former, as Harry feared to think what the man might do with his wand. Hedwig was not back yet, so he could not owl Dumbledore, but maybe he could contact the order member outside. Harry remembered Kingsley saying that they would not watch him inside the house; they obviously had not expected his uncle to go mad, either.

Harry managed to crawl slowly towards the window and tried to push it open, but it would not budge. He looked up to see that it was locked and attempted to stand up, but the ache shot though him again. The pain was so intense, it caused Harry to gasp and crumple to the ground with a thud. Struggling for breath, Harry heard someone come up the stairs and enter his room.

"I thought you might try to escape," Harry's uncle whispered behind him triumphantly, "But _I_ was ready…"

Vernon grabbed Harry's arm and threw him against the wall, again, making him almost cry out in anguish. Soon the sound of hammering was coming from the window, and Harry gazed up to see his uncle nailing boards across the frame. He had pulled the curtains to, so the slats could not be seen from the outside.

"Let's see you get out of this one," his uncle said, laughing wildly as he left the room.

Harry could hear at least three bolts slam closed on the outside of the door, before his uncle went back downstairs. After a few moments, Harry slipped into darkness once again.

The next time Harry awoke, it was completely dark, so his lack of glasses was inconsequential. He was still lying on the floor, but did not attempt to crawl to the bed in fear of the pain in his stomach. Suddenly, a flare of red light flashed between the planks boarded over the window; Harry crawled over and peered into the crevice. A few seconds later a blue blaze burst into the sky above the park. Disappointedly, he realized these sparks were not those of a wand, but instead those of fireworks. Harry reckoned the rockets must belong to the Buchanans, meaning that today was still the fourth of July. In the back of his mind, he half hoped that they might come and rescue him, but then he remembered he had not shown them in which house he lived. It seemed no one was going to rescue Harry Potter this time.

_Friday, July 5, 1996_

Harry woke to see the first rays of the morning sun spilling through the chinks and gaps of the wood around the window. He sat up slowly, and for a couple of seconds could not remember why he was lying on the floor. However, the memories of the previous day suddenly rushed into his mind, causing him to shudder in remembrance. He knew that he had to escape somehow and soon. Listening carefully, Harry could only hear the faint rumbling snores of his relatives; now, might be one of the few chances he could try to get out.

Crawling to the door, Harry lifted the flap of the cat door his uncle had installed a few summers ago and peaked into the hallway. To his surprise, Harry could see his wand laying but a few meters from the door. His uncle must have been afraid to touch it after he had taken it from Harry, yesterday. Harry put his arm through the hole and tried to reach his wand, but he could not reach it at all. Remembering how he had once used _Lumos_ without touching his wand, Harry reached out and whispered, "Accio!" but still nothing happed. He tried a couple more time, but his attempts were useless. He had not expected it to work, but was still disappointed. The only way Harry was going to obtain his wand was to get out of the room.

Sighing in frustration, Harry backed away from the door and leaned against the side of his bed. He could not get to his wand; he could not owl anyone at headquarters; nor could he contact the Order member outside his house. If he tried yelling for help his uncle would surely stop him before anyone outdoors noticed. If only he could do wandless magic. Picking up the stick he had previously practiced with, Harry began reciting some of the spells he had memorized. For almost an hour, Harry tried to summon, levitate, and repair small objects around the room, but nothing came of his efforts.

Soon, Harry heard the others in the house begin to stir and could smell the bacon as his aunt cooked breakfast. His stomach growled and Harry remembered he had only eaten breakfast the previous day. Wishing someone would bring him some food, Harry tried to cast the spells once again.

Approximately, forty minutes later, Harry heard someone ascend the stairs and quickly stashed the stick under his bed. He tried to stand up, but the pain prevented, so he settled with sitting cross-legged on the ground. Harry did not want to give his uncle the pleasure of seeing him incapacitated. Soon, the man undid the locks on Harry's door and barged into the room. Upon seeing Harry still on the floor, he sneered derisively.

"Are you prepared to obey me now?" he demanded.

Harry nodded slowly, staring at his uncle's face. He did not plan to do so, but if his uncle believed him, Harry could escape.

At Harry's nod, Vernon smiled unkindly and said, "But how can I believe _you_? If I let you go, you'll probably go running to those _freaks_."

Uncle Vernon was becoming angrier with each word he spat, and soon was screaming.

"I don't think the message has gotten through to you! And how _convenient_ it is that I'll be home to make sure it sinks in!"

Vernon then sprang forward and heaved Harry up by the front of his shirt. He punched Harry in the face and laughed as his nephew crumpled to the floor. Harry tried to crawl away towards the door, and managed to get his right arm through, before his uncle rushed forward and slammed the door closed. Harry felt his lower arm snap at the impact and cried out in pain. Vernon only laughed and dragged Harry back into the room. He began kicking Harry, causing him to curl up into a ball, once again. Instead of trying to protect head, as he had the night before, Harry tried to shield his arm and stomach. Unfortunately, Vernon seemed to notice this and aimed directly from them both. Harry yelled each time the foot made contact, until he was hoarse. Suddenly, Harry felt himself fall into blissful nothingness.

Harry did not know how long he had lay on the floor, but when he awoke there was a bowl of soup underneath the cat flap. He tried to struggle towards it, but the pain of his arm and other injuries forced him to stop. Looking down at himself, Harry saw he was covered in blood. The worst of his injuries seemed to be his broken arm and the gash down his right side. Luckily, his face only contained a large bruise in addition to his swollen eye and lip. Panting from his effort to reach the food, Harry lie back down and fell asleep.

Harry spent the next few hours in between awareness and oblivion, only vaguely remembering anything that occurred. At one point, he could hear yelling down stairs and actually caught a few words this time.

"You can't keep doing this, Vernon."

"I will do as I please, woman!"

"What if _they_ find out, though?"

"Those threats were empty; no one actually _cares _about _him_."

"But the neighbors could hear…"

"I am the head of this house!"

"Vernon! This must stop!"

Harry heard a small shriek and the sound of a crash, before everything went silent again.

The oddest thing he remembered was someone talking to him softly. The person helped him onto the bed and then cleaned the wound on his side. Sometime later, the same individual fed him some of the soup. Harry tried to see who it was but with his swollen eye and without the glasses, he could not.

It was not until the afternoon that Harry felt he could sit up. It hurt incredibly, but he managed. Harry noted in the back of his mind that this pain seemed worse than that of the _Cruciatus_ Curse. The pain of the unforgivable faded with the memory of it, only leaving the recipient sore and tired, but this physical pain renewed itself with each movement he made. After only pulling himself up, Harry was panting with the effort.

Harry tried to read to clock, and by holding it right in front of his face, he make out that it was around three o'clock in the afternoon. Remembering the strange person from earlier, Harry looked around but no one was there. However, he did notice that the two lists of spells he had created and his stick was sitting on the table beside his bed. Confused, Harry picked up the stick. It felt odd not holding it with his right hand, but currently he could not move the arm with feeling excruciating pain. Harry began reciting the spells at a paper ball, once again, with no results.

Harry tried for over two hours, before he gave up, exhausted. His voice had been hoarse to begin with, but now he could barely speak. It did not matter how hard he tried to cast a spell, he could not get even the simplest of them to work. Discouraged and frustrated, Harry threw the stick across the room. He immediately regretted the action, not only because the movement hurt his whole body, but also because, now, he could not even distract himself with the spells.

After merely sitting there for half an hour, Harry was beginning to fall asleep once more. However, a soft knock came from the door pulling him from the doze. Harry whispered, "Who is it?" knowing that it could not be Uncle Vernon - who would have just barged in.

"It's me, Dudley" came the equally quiet response.

After undoing all the locks, Dudley walked in.

"What are you doing here," Harry asked softly, causing his cousin to lean in to hear.

Dudley held up a bowl in his hand, which Harry saw contained porridge.

"And Dad wanted me to see how you looked."

Harry raised his eyebrow and Dudley looked away uncomfortable. Obviously, Vernon wanted to know how much damage he had inflicted.

"Where should I put it," Dudley asked, indicating the food.

Harry nodded at the nightstand, and Dudley placed it there, noticing the two papers sitting resting on top.

"What are these?" he asked curiously.

Harry paused for a moment before responding, "Spells."

Dudley's eyes became large at hearing this and he glanced at Harry. He looked like he might drop the papers in fright, but seemed to change his mind and looked at them again.

"You mean these words actually make stuff happen?"

Harry nodded slowly, surprised at his cousin interest.

"Would something happen if I said them?"

"No," Harry whispered, "even I would need a wand. Besides you still couldn't do it, since you're a muggle."

"Oh," Dudley said a note of disappointment in his voice, "what's a muggle?"

"A non-magical person"

Dudley put the papers back on the desk and turned to leave.

"Do you need anything else?" Dudley called over his shoulder.

Harry was about to say no, when he had an idea.

"Wait, Dudley…will you help me?" Harry said, trying to speak above a whisper.

Dudley paused, and slowly turned around, a worried expression on his face.

"I - I don't know."

"_P__lease._"

"What do you want?" Dudley asked nervously.

"I need you to get my wand. It's in the hall, near the bathroom."

Dudley's eyes had gone wide again and he was shaking his head.

"I c-can't. Dad's been watching me and mom, he doesn't want us to help you."

"But he wouldn't know you got it."

"Yes, he would. He knows it's there; he just doesn't want to touch it."

"Please, just -"

"No," Dudley said firmly, backing towards the door.

"Wait, there's something else."

Dudley paused and waited for Harry to continue.

"There's someone watching the house that could help."

Dudley jaw dropped as he said, "You mean they've got people watching us."

"Well, yeah…" Harry said, hoping he had made the right choice.

"Are you…dangerous or something?" Dudley asked, looking scared.

"No, they're supposed to protect me."

Dudley looked Harry up and down before mumbling, "They're not doing a very good job."

"I need you to contact them."

"But, I've never even seen them."

"That's because they usually wear invisibility cloaks."

"Invisibility cloaks…you must be joking."

"No, I'm not - go to the corner over there," Harry said, pointing to where his trunk was hidden.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Shrugging, Dudley walked over and looked around before turning back to Harry.

"There's nothing -"

"Keep going," Harry said impatiently.

Dudley walked on, and jumped in surprise when he nearly fell over the invisible trunk. He began feeling around, and Harry saw him muttering in disbelief.

"Go on, take the cloak off."

Dudley grasped the material and fell backwards when the trunk was revealed.

"But, how…" he sputtered at Harry.

"It's an invisibility cloak," Harry chuckled, but grimaced at the pain his amusement caused.

Dudley looked worriedly at his cousin, and then back down at the cloak.

"What…what do you want me to do?" Dudley asked, throwing the cloak back over the trunk.

Harry sighed in relief and told Dudley his plan. All Dudley needed to do was find the Order member and convince the person Harry was hurt and in trouble. His cousin's face became troubled as he explained, though.

"Dad's really gone off his rocker; it's worse than when we got those letters. He's been watching us like hawks, afraid we might help you or something. He hasn't even let me leave the house today."

"Then convince him you're on his side, somehow. Tell him you were beating me or something, when you go back downstairs."

Dudley looked dubious, but agreed. Suddenly Uncle Vernon's voice boomed through the house, calling for Dudley. The boy in question looked alarmed and he hurried down without giving Harry a second glance. Hoping his plan would work, Harry let himself drift asleep.

Harry was not able to sleep as he had desired and soon was completely awake again. Picking up the slightly warm porridge, he ate a few spoonfuls but found himself queasy and stopped. What Harry really wanted was to use the loo, but he knew his uncle would never let him out of the room, let alone near his wand.

Without anything to distract him from the pain of his injuries, Harry tried to lie as still as possible, hoping that without movement the pain might subside. Harry closed his eyes and began listening to the noises around him. Downstairs he could hear the drone of the television, it sounded like they were listening to the news, and he could smell the roast beef Aunt Petunia was cooking for dinner. He could also hear the sound of a lawnmower coming from the neighbor's yard and the twittering of some birds outside his window in the trees. Then, Harry thought heard a low hoot coming from just outside his window. Listening carefully, the sound came again a few seconds later, this time it seemed somewhat impatient.

"Hedwig!" Harry realized, sitting up quickly.

However, this abrupt movement caused the gash in his side to ache horribly, causing Harry to lie back down with a moan. At Harry's groan, the owl outside began hooting insistently.

"Hedwig, is that you?" Harry called from his prone position.

Another hoot answered him, in what he deemed an affirmative response.

"I can't let you in so you'll have to find another way. But you'd better wait until its dark…" Harry said, wondering, yet hoping, that she might understand him.

The sound of flapping wings came from the window, but Harry did not know if it meant Hedwig figured out what he said or if she was simply tired of waiting.

Still feeling the pain from moving, Harry touched his side and felt something wet. Looking down, he saw that the cut had started to bleed again. Harry pressed his hand against the wound, and ignored the additional pain, as he tried to staunch the blood. Eventually, Harry felt himself becoming lightheaded from the loss of blood and pressed even harder. However, this action caused him to fall unconscious completely.

Someone was shaking him roughly and screaming at him. The violent movement caused Harry to shout in pain and force his eyes open. To his disgust, Uncle Vernon's face was revealed to be mere centimeters away from his. Harry tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go.

"Go to the bathroom," his uncle demanded pointing out the door.

Harry eased himself up, gritting his teeth against the pain, and slid his legs off the bed. He slowly maneuvered himself up and took a few steps, but his body was too weak and he collapsed. Harry heard his uncle give an impatient grunt behind before he felt the man grab the collar of his shirt. Vernon dragged Harry out the door and into the bathroom, where he dropped him unceremoniously on the floor. The man quickly stomped out and slammed the door closed behind him. Harry waited for a few seconds for the pain to subside before he pulled himself up.

After using the toilet, Harry leaned heavily against the sink and pulled his shirt up to look at the wound in the mirror. It was very red and swollen, but it seemed the blood had stopped for now. Harry tried to clean it some by cupping water in his hand and letting it run over the wound, but he only succeeded in drenching his pants. Looking at his broken arm, Harry saw that half of his lower arm was bent oddly. If he touched it at all, it ached horribly so Harry just let it be.

Harry walked slowly to the door and leaning against the frame, opened it a crack to peer out. Harry had not heard his uncle go back downstairs and assumed he was waiting just outside the door. Gazing through the gap, Harry could see his wand about half a meter away. He was debating about throwing himself at the wand and trying to stun his uncle, when the door was flung open.

"Going to try and bewitch me again, were you! Vernon yelled, having seen where Harry was looking moments before.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but his uncle punched him into the torso before he had time to think. Harry felt something in his chest crack, and lost his breath once he hit the tile floor. Trying to breathe again, Harry felt Vernon grab his left arm and pull him back into the bedroom. Vernon aimed another punch, at his head this time, but Harry managed to throw his good arm and prevent it from reaching his face. This seemed to anger his uncle even more, who began to pommel Harry's body almost nonstop. Without any way to protect himself, Harry welcomed unconsciousness, but this time it would not come. Uncle Vernon eventually seemed to tire and stopped attacking Harry, only giving him an occasional kick. With barely enough energy, Harry looked up at his uncle, who became incensed once again when he realized his nephew was still conscious but did not start the beating again. Instead, he turned jerkily and marched out of the room, making sure to secure all of the bolts.

Due to the immense pain, Harry did not move for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, he rolled onto his stomach but immediately started coughing. Soon, he could taste blood in his mouth. After a couple of minutes, the coughing subsided and Harry was able to push himself into a sitting position. He was having trouble taking a deep breath, as each time he tried there was a piercing pain in his chest. Owing to this and the coughed up blood, Harry guessed he had at least one broken rib. His side wound was bleeding again and seemed to have gotten larger. No longer able to stand the pain, Harry passed out and slid to the floor.

_Saturday, July 6, 1996_

When Harry came around, it was still dark outside and he was still on the floor. Fortunately, his injuries were not hurting quite as bad, even though he could not move without feeling as though every piece of his body was aching and throbbing. Shifting into what could pass as a slightly more comfortable position, Harry heard a soft cooing coming from the far wall.

"Hedwig?" Harry whispered.

A louder hoot answered him, and Harry smiled in delight.

"Come here, girl," Harry called holding out his good arm.

She flew over and landed on his arm, but the extra weight was too much. He tried to lower his arm slowly to the ground, but wound up dropping Hedwig. She hooted unhappily at the rough treatment, and Harry tried to soothe her.

"M'sorry girl," he whispered, rubbing her gently on the back.

She soon settled down, and contentedly enjoyed the attention. Now that Harry had Hedwig back, he could send a letter to headquarters for help. If Hedwig had managed to get into his room, she must be able to get out. With some hope in his heart, Harry drifted off to sleep.

He was woken some hours later by the sound of a plate hitting the floor. Harry turned his head and saw his aunt's hand retreating hastily and heard her hurried footsteps back downstairs. The plate contained some eggs and a piece of toast, which Hedwig was eyeing from her perch on top of the desk chair. Harry was starving but doubted he would be able to keep any of the food down, even if he managed to reach the door.

"Go on, Hedwig," Harry called to his owl.

She swooped down and retrieved the bread, which to Harry's surprise she dropped by his side. Hedwig landed at his feet and gazed at Harry until he feebly began to nibble at the corner of the toast. Seemingly satisfied, she flew back to the plate of food where she swallowed a few mouthfuls of eggs before flying to her cage.

Harry watched her for a few moments, before looking around the room. If he wanted to send a letter out, he was going to have to find a quill and parchment. He knew his trunk was on the other side of the room, still hidden. Slowly, Harry got to his feet, using the wall for support. Ignoring the pain, he took a few tentative steps forward but fell to his knees almost immediately. From that position he began to crawl forward and eventually reached the trunk, panting in pain. He leaned against it for a couple of minutes, before taking off the cloak and opening the trunk.

To his utter surprise, the books Harry had ordered from Flourish and Blotts were neatly stacked on top of the clutter. When Harry had repacked his trunk, he did not take care to organize it, so everything was scattered about in a muddle, but he distinctly did not remember setting those books aside. Pushing his confusion away, Harry found a scroll of parchment containing only a few doodles, but could not find a quill or ink. He could only search with one arm, and had to put his body at an awkward angle to do so; as a result, Harry could only stand a few seconds of the pain this caused before he had stop and rest. After ten minutes of searching, he was still at a loss.

Then Harry heard the pounding of steps in the stairway, and quickly struggled to close and hide his trunk. In his hurry, he forgot to put the parchment back in the trunk, so was still in his lap when his uncle entered the room. Unfortunately, the first thing Uncle Vernon noticed was Hedwig sitting in her cage.

"Where the hell did that RUDDY BIRD COME FROM!" Vernon bellowed at Harry.

"I don't know; she just showed up last night."

Vernon reddened in the face and began around the room suspiciously until his eyes fell across the cat flap.

"So you think you could sneak a letter to your _friends_. Shouldn't they have rescued you by now?" Vernon sneered.

"They'll come once they know what you've done," Harry tried to yell, but barely managed a hoarse shout. However, he was starting to doubt this himself.

"But they're not going to find out. Today's the day you have to contact them, and I'm going to tell you _exactly _what to put in that letter," Vernon stated smugly, holding out a pen and lined-paper.

Harry took the two items, not knowing what else to do.

"Now address it to whomever you're supposed to and record _word for word_ what I say. And don't try any funny business, because I'll be checking it over."

Not able to use his right hand, Harry held the pen uneasily in his left and began to write.

_Dear Remus, _

_ My summer stay with the Dursleys has been pleasing so far. My aunt and uncle are treating me very kindly, and I even had a nice conversation with Dudley yesterday. Aunt Petunia has been cooking excellent meals and I have enjoyed watching the telly with Uncle Vernon. I must say, I have not been very gracious for everything they have given me these past fifteen years. I hope you and everyone else are doing fine and I can't wait to see you lot at the end of the summer._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Harry_

At the end of the letter, Vernon snatched it out of Harry's hands and began reading.

"Why is it so sloppy! I told you -"

"I write with my right hand,' Harry interrupted, pointing at his broken arm.

Vernon grimaced in distaste, and continued reading. Once he was done he handed it back to Harry.

"Now send it off with your…_creature_," he said eyeing Hedwig in disgust.

"Here, girl," Harry called and placed the letter in her beak. "Make sure Remus gets this as soon as possible."

After grasping the letter carefully, Hedwig flew to the cat flap, and managed to hop through it, although it was a tight squeeze.

"That's what I thought!" Vernon said proudly. "Now I can board that up too…"

Uncle Vernon left in a hurry, and Harry could soon hear him pounding against the door with a hammer.

Once Vernon finished, he shouted through the door, "Let's see you send a letter to those freaks now!"

Harry was thankful his uncle had only been worried with the letter this morning. It seemed Uncle Vernon thought the message had finally sunk into his nephew. Harry wondered if Remus would realize that the words in the letter were not his own. His previous letter had made it clear he wanted to leave Privet Drive as quickly as he could. Hopefully, Remus would be able to read between the lines.

Harry also wondered if Dudley had contacted the Order member outside. Surely, they would have responded already if they knew. It seemed that mode of rescue was unavailable. Unless he thought of something else, Remus was his last hope.

Harry spent the next hour or so trying to think of an alternative escape plan, but he nixed every one he created due to his severe injuries. In fact, each breath he took was significantly harder to pull than the last. Whatever had snapped in his chest was causing Harry to take quick shallow breaths. Soon his vision started fading and once again he blacked out.

Harry was only awake for a couple of minutes over the following few hours, and each time he caught glimpses of the same mysterious person who had seen before. Yet again, he was resting on his bed without remembering how he got there and occasionally he remembered eating a few spoonfuls of broth. Harry was never awake long enough to see the person in detail though, especially without his glasses. All he could see was that he or she had short dark colored hair.

Some hours later, Harry was finally able to sit up against the pain, but, of course, he was now alone in the room. His stick and the lists of spells had been replaced on the nightstand, and all the plates and bowls of food were piled beside the doorway. Harry looked and saw there was indeed a bowl almost full with broth.

Confused, Harry put the unexplained person from his mind and picked up the stick to practice the spells once more. No matter how hard he tried though, he could not get the slightest bit of magic to emerge from the piece of wood.

Soon, however, Harry could hear the sound of heavy footsteps hurrying up the stairs. Uncle Vernon entered the carrying some lengths of rope, a piece of cloth and a maniacal look in his eyes. Harry watched his uncle approach the bed, unable to even back away from the madman.

"I've got a job interview this afternoon," he finally stated, standing at the edge of the bed. "And I am not going to give you the chance to ruin this one too."

Vernon then proceeded to leap onto the bed and pin Harry down by grabbing him around the neck. Harry tried to struggle but each movement shot pains through his body. Soon his uncle had tied his wrists together and then his ankles. He then took another piece of rope and attached his wrists to the foot of the bed. The last thing he did was to stuff a sock into Harry's mouth and then tie the piece of cloth around his head to hold it in. Uncle Vernon looked over his work and nodded satisfactorily.

"Where are your friends now, freak? I've been doing whatever I want and they haven't so much as lifted a finger to help you! After _fifteen years _of leeching off my hard earned living, you're finally getting a taste of how I really feel about you!"

Vernon turned and left the room. Once he had secured all the locks again he shouted through the door, "And don't bother trying escape; there's no one here to help you! I've sent Petunia and Dudley out running errands while I'm away, so you're all alone like you should be!"

Soon Harry heard the car pulling out of the driveway and felt tears prick his eyes. He really was alone; no one knew he was being tortured by his own family. His aunt and cousin were too afraid of Uncle Vernon to try and help him. The Order thought everything was normal, and no one was going to save the famous Harry Potter this time.

Harry lost track of time as he lay there and drifted in and out of consciousness. At one point, he tried to loosen his bonds but only managed to rub his wrists and ankles raw, and the wound on his side had started to bleed again. Every piece of his body was paining him, and yet there was nothing he could do about it. For the last time, Harry felt the pull of unawareness and let himself fall.

_Sunday, July 7, 1996_

Harry did not come around the next morning. His mind was trapped between the waking world and a realm of nightmarish reality. He could not force himself to wake, nor could he completely immerse himself into the nightmare. He could feel the pain as he struggled against the ropes and shouted through the piercing hurt in his chest and the cloth in his mouth. Each movement made his entire body felt as though it were aflame.

Yet, in his mind he was suffering a different kind of pain. Instead of the physical hurt, he felt in the real world, Harry was experiencing a deep anguish as he watched images before him. Scenes were racing in front of him lingering just long enough to reveal their meaning. Harry watched in horror as each of his friends screamed in agony through torture inflicted by an invisible tormentor. Every one of them looked Harry directly in the eyes with a hateful expression full of blame. Through it all Voldemort stood by Harry's side and relished in his agony, laughing as Harry flinched in shame at their accusations.

Without warning the cord connecting his wrists was undone and Harry's arms flailed in the air as he tried to stop the images before his eyes. Someone grabbed his wrists and forced them back down. Harry cried out as they grabbed his broken arm and stopped struggling for a moment. He could hear someone calling his name in the distance and followed the voice trying to escape the gruesome setting.

Harry's eyes shot open and he jerked in fright when someone's face was revealed directly about his own. Harry tried to get away but the person was holding him firmly in place. Suddenly his glasses were placed on his face and Harry stopped moving in surprise upon seeing the haggard and worried expression of Remus Lupin before him.

"Harry, it's alright. We're here now," Harry heard the man say before he was lost to oblivion once again.

When Harry next woke, he lay still not daring to move. He vaguely remembered seeing a face during his litany of nightmares. He could not recall if this had actually happened or if it was just a trick of his deluded mind. Finally, opening his eyes, Harry turned his head to the left and to his great relief saw the sleeping form of Professor Lupin.

Almost crying in joy, Harry lifted a hand to his face and realized that his wrists and ankles were no longer bound and that he was wearing his glasses. Delicately and hopefully, Harry picked up his right arm and found that although it was incredibly sore the sharp pain he had felt before was gone. In fact, Harry could not feel the piercing pain in his body at all. Looking down at himself, he saw that although he was still bruised and ached all over, all of his major injuries seemed to be healed. Harry tried to whoop in happiness, but all that came out was a weak cough. However, this noise was enough to wake the professor beside him. Lupin looked up in surprise and smiled widely when he saw Harry looking back at him.

"Harry, you're awake," Lupin stated happily.

"How long was I out, Professor," Harry asked worriedly, noticing a vile taste reminiscent of Skele-grow lingering in his mouth.

"Just a few hours, but it was touch and go for a while. You had us very worried, Harry."

"Us? Who else…"

"Well, I was the one on guard when your cousin gave us the heads up. I sent a message to headquarters so Kingsley, Tonks, and Mad-eye came almost immediately."

Harry smiled faintly upon learning that Dudley had gotten the message across, and made note to thank him later.

"And Harry, call me Remus. I haven't been you professor for some time now…and it makes me sound old," Lupin said, smiling also.

Harry nodded slightly, finding it odd to call the man by his first name.

"If you're feeling up to it, Harry, I need you to tell me exactly what happened."

Harry's smile faded immediately, as he said, "Are…are my relatives home yet?"

"Yes, they returned about two hours after we got here. Your uncle immediately came up here and began screaming at us to get out. We tried to reason with him, but…"

"What happened," Harry asked nervously.

"Your uncle started raving about how you deserved to be like this, and Tonks became so angry she sent a mild pain curse at him," Remus responded smiling slightly in remembrance. "Now everyone is downstairs in the sitting room."

Harry did not say anything for a few minutes, trying to think how he would explain the man's behavior.

"Harry, if you're not ready -"

"No, let's just get it over with."

So Harry described how everything had escalated when he refused to obey his relatives from the start. He told Lupin how the man had been violent from the beginning and how he actually attacked Harry once he lost his job. Harry made sure to include how Dudley was willing to help and how neither Dudley nor his aunt agreed with the behavior.

Harry wondered if Lupin noticed how he would not actually say Vernon's name aloud. He could not bear that the thought that his _uncle_ had done this to him.

"Harry, why didn't you tell anyone? You didn't mention it in your first letter and the second -"

"It was too late by the time I wanted to tell you, and he forced me to write that second letter."

"The letter was the reason I decided to take watch today. It didn't sound like you at all."

"Why didn't any of the guards hear me, I - I usually yelled when he attacked," Harry asked not wanting to admit how pathetic he had been.

"Harry, you're not weak," Lupin said picking up on the insecurity in Harry's voice. "You may not have liked your relatives, but you at least trusted them. No one should have gone through what you did."

Harry stared at the wall, still feeling ashamed of himself. The world expected him to stand up to Voldemort, and he still could not handle a muggle.

"The guards didn't know because we usually aren't in the yard," Remus continued. "We typically walk around Privet Drive to make sure everything's in order. But now we're going to make sure there's someone near the house at all times."

"Wait, you mean I have to stay here?" Harry asked horrified.

"Dumbledore feels it would be best if you remained here for a while longer."

Harry sat up quickly, only grimacing slightly at the pain it caused.

"Harry, you really shouldn't move around too much. Madam Pomphrey advised you stay in bed for the next couple of days."

"Professor, I can't stay here! If this place is supposed to protect me, I might as well give myself to Voldemort."

"I'm sorry, but I have to follow Dumbledore's orders. Think of it this way, in just a couple of weeks, you'll probably be able to join us at headquarters."

Harry slumped back down on the bed at this statement and glared at the ceiling. Privet Drive and Grimmauld Place, the last two places he wanted to be and the only locations he was allowed to go. While Harry was lamenting his powerlessness, Remus rose from his chair.

"I know you don't like it, Harry, but I'm afraid it's the only option we have."

When Harry still would not look at him, Remus turned to go.

"We have to return to headquarters now, but I'll be back in the morning. Moody has given your uncle a very specific explanation as to what will happen to him should he try to do anything. But just in case, we have removed the boards from your window and the guard will be just outside. Goodbye, Harry."

Remus waited a moment, but Harry would not acknowledge him. Harry felt betrayed by everyone around him. He could not believe that Dumbledore even considered the possibility to allowing Harry to remain at Number 4 Privet Drive, let alone forcing him to do so. Harry did not feel safe staying with his relatives in the slightest and yet he was not allowed to leave. Dumbledore seemed to believe that as long as Harry was hidden from Voldemort, it did not matter what else happened to his precious weapon.

Tired of staying in bed, Harry sat up and swung his legs over. In the process he glanced at his nightstand and noticed something laying there. Reaching over, Harry grasped his wand and stared at it resting in his hands. The sense of security he felt holding it amazed him. Without his wand, Harry was helpless. He knew that if he intended to survive, he would have to find a way to defend himself without the protection of his wand.

Harry placed the wand into his pants pocket, noticing that his outfit had been changed at some point. He got up slowly, using the bed and wall as a support. Letting go, he walked a couple of laps around the room until he felt roughly stable. The first thing Harry wanted to do was get a bite to eat, but he was uncertain about going downstairs and meeting Vernon. The Order might feel certain that the man was reserved and safe now, but Harry felt different. He had never seen Vernon act in such a way and did not want to chance it happening again. No matter what, he had to be prepared.

Harry walked to his trunk and opened the top, after removing the invisibility cloak, grabbed the scroll of parchment and managed to find some ink and a quill. He sat down at his desk and began making a list of his goals. He knew he might not even accomplish some of them, but he had to at least try.

_Methods of Protection:_

_Wand Magic_

_Shielding_

_Wandless Magic_

_Apparition_

_Occulmency_

_Weapons_

His list was short, but the contents would allow him a wide and varied array of methods with which to defend himself against almost any type of attack. If he could master at least a little in each of the fields he would no longer be helpless. So, Harry began searching his limited selection of titles for ideas and methods.

A little while later, a quiet knock came from the bedroom door. Ceasing his reading, Harry told the person to enter, guessing it must be Dudley. He was proven correct in his assumption, as Dudley walked in carrying a plate of food. Harry motioned his cousin over, and Dudley placed the food on the desk. Dudley seemed much more nervous now that Harry was no longer confined to his bed.

"I really want to thank you for what you did," Harry stated. "You probably saved my life."

"I guess we're even then," Dudley said, grinning a little.

Harry didn't smile back though. He knew that if it weren't for him, Dudley would not have been in trouble in the first place.

"I think you have the right to know why those dementors were in Little Whinghing last year."

"I already know," Dudley revealed. "Those people who were over earlier explained it to us. I didn't really understand it all, but mom seemed to know what they were on about."

"What exactly did they tell you?"

"The mass murder that disappeared when you were a baby has come back and is trying to finish you off," Dudley stated matter-of-factly.

"And you're okay with that," Harry asked, not understanding how his cousin could be so calm.

"You've lived with us for the last fifteen years and nothing's happened, yet. And all of those people are trying to protect you."

"But now that Voldemort's back, he will be actively trying to find me."

"So that's his name, those people wouldn't say it before."

"Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself," Harry quoted to himself.

"Huh?" Dudley asked confused.

"In the wizarding world everyone's afraid to say Voldemort's name."

"Then why aren't you?"

Harry shrugged and said, "I wasn't raised in that world. I didn't even know Voldemort existed until I turned eleven."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Harry said, wondering what would make Dudley question him beforehand.

"Those people said that every year you've been at your school, something happened that almost killed you."

Harry nodded, remembering well each of the events.

"Then, why do you go back?"

"Because…" Harry trailed off.

He thought the answer was obvious but when he tried to explain, the words would not come so easily.

"I guess it's because Hogwarts was the first place I really felt at home. Everyone there had the same…abnormality that I did. To them I was just another normal kid."

"Well, almost," Harry thought to himself. Dudley and he might be on speaking terms now, but Harry was not about to reveal his unwanted fame.

"And believe it or not, I actually feel safe there. Those things did happen to me, but only because I went looking for them."

Dudley stopped his tirade of questions with a thoughtful expression on his face. Finally Harry asked his own query.

"Did they tell you anything else?"

"No, they told me and Mum to leave so they could talk to Dad alone. I tried to eavesdrop but I couldn't hear anything."

This caused Harry to gain a pensive look of his own. What could the order want to tell his uncle that they would not tell the rest of the Dursleys? Maybe they were just warning him of further consequences. Not knowing what else they could have discussed, Harry looked up to see Dudley heading towards the doorway. Once Dudley reached the door, he looked over his shoulder at Harry.

"Oh and thanks."

"For what," Harry asked puzzled.

"For saving my life, I never did thank you."

Harry smiled to himself and turned back to his note-taking. Maybe life here at Privet Drive would not be too dreadful.


	4. Attack, the Second

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine...

Chapter IV: The Second Attack

A/N: So I made a mistake...If anyone noticed that the previous chapter 4 seemed just a bit out of place, you were right! I uploaded the wrong chapter. *hides in shame* To apologize, I've uploaded the correct chapter 4 and chapter 5. Sorry for the confusion!

* * *

_Monday, July 8, 1996 - 6:00 am_

Harry woke early the next morning and knew exactly what he wanted to do - take a bath. It had been four days since his body had touched water, excluding his shaky attempt to clean the wound on his side. He knew that Madam Pomphrey had used spells to try and clean him up, but it just not the same as immersing himself in water. As usual no one else in the Dursleys household was moving this early in the morning, so Harry had the bathroom to himself.

He was still weak, so the walk from his bedroom to the bathroom was tiring, but his incentive was plenty attractive. Once he had the water running, Harry looked in the drawers for some sort of bubble bath and found some bath beads that smelled like evergreens. Harry dumped in a generous amount before easing himself in. He groaned as the hot water hit his sore body.

By the time Harry moved again, he could hear his aunt beginning to stir in her bedroom. He quickly got out and wrapped a towel around his body. Once he heard her treading down the stairs, he quickly stole back into his bedroom. Harry redressed, feeling relaxed and healthier already.

While waiting for breakfast to cook, Harry organized the mess of papers he had made while researching methods of protection yesterday. He added his lists of spells and the stick to the desk to complete the array. The notes he took yesterday were not of actual methods, but instead ways in which to study the types of protection more thoroughly. His narrow selection of books did not contain many actual dueling tactics; instead, they contained theories and brief descriptions of spell usage. The offensive section did not even include any definite spells, only vague suggestions. If Harry wanted to utilize the information he would have to visit a bookstore or library, if wizards even had such a thing.

During his organizing, Harry heard Vernon and cousin go downstairs. Deciding he might as well join them, instead of waiting for someone to bring him his food, Harry headed down also. He was not going to make his aunt wait on him like a servant. Harry had disobeyed the Dursleys for just the same reason, so he could not expect her to serve him, even if it meant spending time with his uncle.

When he entered the room, everyone looked up in surprise. Aunt Petunia quickly went into the kitchen and returned with another plate of food, which she placed at Harry's chair. Harry sat down and began eating, but the others were still sitting in silence. Eventually, Dudley began eating as well, and the other two soon followed. Aunt Petunia and Dudley struck up a conversation between themselves, but every time they tried to include Vernon he merely grunted and continued devouring his food intently. Harry assumed the man must finally be taking the Order's threat to heart and thus trying to ensure he did not lose his temper.

Harry ate quickly and excused himself, not wanting to spend another minute with his uncle. Even though they had not once looked in each other's directions, just being in the presence of the man made Harry uncomfortable. Before this summer Harry had disliked him, but now he actively hated him. However, there was a sense of fear mingled with this anger and hatred. Harry was terrified Vernon might overcome him again and he would, once more, be helpless.

Back in his room, Harry sat down at his desk to look over his notes on protective methods. He had exhausted his supply of books, and thus needed more material to study. Harry almost laughed out loud when he realized what a bookworm he was acting like. If Ron could see him now, Harry was sure his friend might keel over in surprise. Hermione, on the other, would probably give him a hug, she would be so overjoyed.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw something swoop past his window, but when he turned his head to look there was nothing there. Supposing it was his imagination, he returned to his lists. If he wanted to make progress in his plans, Harry was going to need access to the wizarding world. He had not traveled to the Leaky Cauldron by muggle transportation since first year, and was not sure he could do so again without aid. He could, of course, summon the Knight Bus but he did not particularly fancy another uncomfortable trip. The only other option he could think of was to ask permission from the Order, and thus Dumbledore. Maybe if he explained his desire to go in the right way Dumbledore would actually allow him.

Interrupting his train of thought once again, Harry saw the blur soar past his window, only this time it came back around and began pecking insistently on window. Harry hurried to open the window and let the owl in. If he was not mistaken, this owl was the same one that visited him from Gringotts previously. Once the horn owl was inside it immediately dropped the large package it was carrying onto the floor and flew to Hedwig's cage. Taking greedy gulps from the water dish, it glared at Harry as though blaming him for the large package.

Picking up the parcel, Harry was surprised at the weight as the bird had carried it all by itself. Inside were the seven books Harry had ordered from Flourish and Blotts. Also enclosed were his vault key and a note reading,

_Proof of Payment_

_This slip indicates that a withdrawal of fifty-eight galleons has been removed from one Harry Potter's vault in Diagon Alley Branch of Gringotts Wizarding Bank for the purchase of the seven books listed in the attachment._

_ - Taxeowle_

Harry tossed the note and attachment aside and lifted the seven books to his desk. Now, he had a chance to research more information and narrow down the range of books he would need to buy while in Diagon Alley. The first book Harry selected was _The Dark Forces: a Guide to Self-Protection _by Quentin Trimble.

Harry soon learned that Quentin Trimble held the opposite viewpoint of the author of _Protection against the Dark Arts. _Instead of suggesting that the best offense is a good defense, Trimble seemed to believe that in order to shield oneself, one had to defeat the opponent as quickly and efficiently as possible. Glancing through the next few chapters Harry saw diagrams and descriptions of spells used in dueling, most of which he had never seen.

Harry picked up the next title, _Magick Moste Eville_ by Musidoro Drakule. After only briefly browsing through it, he soon put it away disgusted. The book was essentially a record of spells dark witches and wizards had used throughout history. It had a section designated to the three unforgivables, but as far as Harry could see there were other spells designed to do nearly as terrible things that did not earn a person a lifetime cell in Azkaban. Although Harry had no intention of using any of these spells, they would prepare for what he might eventually face.

Deciding to return to the previous book, Harry set the others aside and began reading more thoroughly. As he came each new spell, Harry wrote it down and jotted a couple of notes about its usage.

The first few spells did not actively attack the opponent. Instead they distracted him or her so that you could cast a more effective spell or escape altogether. Some of the ones Harry thought would be most useful included:

_Genisum_ – causes double vision

_Nuadito_ – causes temporary deafness

_Libraverto_ – causes a loss of balance

_Ruiques_ – causes area of the body to experience pins and needles (fall asleep)

Harry read more into the book and created a new list of spells to add to his inventory. Some minutes later a faint knock came from the door and Harry was startled from his reading. He had been so immersed in his reading he had forgotten where he was; returning to reality was not a very pleasant experience. After a moment he called the person in.

"Hello, Harry," Remus said with a slight smile on his face, seeing Harry up and about.

Harry did not respond as he turned back to his book. He knew he was being childish, but he was still angry with his ex-professor. He had not actually believed anyone would be coming back, but even though Lupin had it did not make Harry feel any better.

"When am I leaving," Harry asked, idly flipping the pages of his book, trying to appear calmer than he actually was.

"Professor Dumbledore feels that it would be best if you remained here for now. He believes that it is the safest place for you."

"The safest place?" Harry yelled, finally standing up and looked Lupin in the eyes. "I almost died, but Dumbledore thinks it's alright for me to stay. Does the fact that _I don't feel safe_ even matter?"

"Harry we're doing the best we can. With Sirius gone we're not sure how secure headquarters is anymore."

Harry sat down heavily at the mention of his godfather and turned back to the book. He knew Lupin was probably right but he did not want to acknowledge it. Anywhere was better than staying with the Dursleys.

"I don't want to stay here," Harry stated, gripping the book harder than necessary.

"Harry, be reasonable. I don't like the situation anymore than you do, but for now we just have to deal with it. I know that's asking a lot, but you've got to at least try."

Harry relaxed a little at Lupin's calm tone, but was still angry. He did not feel in control of anything in his life right now. Everywhere he went and everything he did was being reported to the Order; he barely had any privacy anymore.

Noticing that Harry's temper had cooled slightly, Lupin pulled an envelope out of his pocket.

"Harry, I need to tell you something. It's the real reason why I wanted to come today."

Harry turned around curious and worried why Lupin sounded serious all of a sudden. Was Voldemort planning something? Had something already happened?

"Before Sirius died he and I had a talk about what to do if anything ever happened to him…He wanted to make sure you would not be left alone."

Harry felt tears prick his eyes and blinked rapidly trying to make them disappear. He looked at Lupin to see that he had sat on Harry's bed and there was a single tear falling down his cheek.

"He didn't want you to feel abandoned," Lupin continued. "He said he knew what it felt like to have a hateful family, and he wanted to ensure you would not have to endure that forever."

Remus paused and looked at Harry, a note of worry in his eyes.

"Harry, he asked me to take on the role as your godfather."

Whatever Harry had been expecting it was not this. He looked away from Lupin and stared at the wall, unable to comprehend what the man had said. This was too final…this meant Sirius was really gone.

"Harry, I'll understand if you want some time to think about it, but I hope you'll accept me."

Harry had found someone who could fill in the void he had felt since childhood, and now Lupin was going to try and replace Sirius like he never existed. It was happening to fast…there were too many changes going on around him that he could not control.

"Get out," Harry whispered roughly unable to handle the barrage of thoughts rushing through his mind.

"Harry…" Lupin asked standing up perplexed.

"I said get out!" Harry shouted twisting around in his chair and glaring at his parent's old friend.

With a looked of confusion and dismay, Lupin hastened out of the room. Harry sat panting in his chair until he heard the front door close. Standing up, he began to pace the room in distress and frustration. He liked Lupin, he was the best Defense against the Dark Arts professor Harry had ever had; and yet, now he felt betrayed by him. Harry knew Lupin's intentions were not to erase Sirius, but to Harry that was what it felt like. Sitting on the bed, Harry put his head in his hands unable to think of what to do. He did not want to hurt Lupin, which he had admittedly already done, but he could not accept what was occurring.

Sometime later, Harry picked up the handle he was using in place of his wand, and began to run through his list of spells, this time including the new ones he had read out of _A Guide to Self Protection_. Harry still had to reference the old lists a couple of times to remember one, but for the most part he could recall them all. He made himself go through the motions of each spell, critically analyzing how he made the movements and comparing them to the examples in the books. He was so caught up in his practice he did not notice someone standing in the door watching his with a bemused expression on his face.

Harry stopped, somewhat embarrassed, when Dudley finally cleared his throat.

"_What_ were you doing?" Dudley asked, waving his arms in the air wildly attempting to imitate Harry's wand movements.

"I was practicing," Harry said shortly not appreciating Dudley's mockery.

"Practicing? Practicing what…m-magic?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." Harry responded, surprised Dudley had actually said the forbidden word.

"But nothing was happening." he stated, obviously not believing him.

"That's because I wasn't using my wand," Harry said, showing Dudley the length of wood in his hand.

"How do you know that's not a wand," Dudley asked staring at it.

Harry shrugged and pulled out his wand, holding the two pieces of wood side by side.

Dudley reached out to take the sticks, but stopped midway and looked at Harry. Harry knew that wands contained a bit of magic of their own and doubted that it was a good idea for Dudley to hold one. He remembered reading somewhere that wands were unpredictable and sometimes dangerous in the hands of muggles.

"You probably shouldn't," Harry said, pulling his wand back. "Muggles aren't really supposed to use them."

"Oh," Dudley said dropping his hand. Harry noticed the hint of disappointment in his cousin's voice again, and wondered at it.

"Well, lunch is ready. My mum made roast beef sandwiches."

Harry put his wand in his pants pocket and the stick on the nightstand before joining his relatives downstairs. Vernon was not at the kitchen table, so Harry assumed he must have gotten whatever job he had interviewed for. He was relieved, as it meant that much more time Harry would not have to spend with him. Lunch was eaten in silence except for the drone of the telly, but as no one tried to make conversation the silence was not overly uncomfortable. After finishing his salad and sandwich, Harry put his plate in the sink and excused himself.

Back in his room, Harry spent the rest of the day reading the self defense book, taking notes, adding to his list of spells, and practicing some of the spells using his fake wand.

Each time he performed one of the spells, he hoped in the back of his mind that something would happen. Once or twice he thought he saw something move after he cast a spell, but he was never ever to replicate it so he passed it off as a combination of his imagination and the lengthening shadows caused by the setting sun.

At one point, he could have sworn the curtain fluttered as if disturbed by a gust of wind. Soon after, he was sure he heard the door creak open, but when he turned around it was still closed. More to the point, those reactions had nothing to do with the spells he was failing to cast anyways.

Tomorrow, Harry planned to start working towards some of his other goals.

_Tuesday, July 9, 1996 - 7:00 am_

Harry woke the next morning feeling refreshed and relaxed. He wanted to start back up on his running, but remembered he was not supposed to overexert himself. He had discovered yesterday that simply going up and down the stairs easily tired him. Noticing that Hedwig had not returned from her nightly hunt, Harry yearned for her freedom. Deciding he would wait until the following day to resume his routine, he grabbed some clothes and went to take a shower.

Afterwards, he proceeded downstairs and ate breakfast, where Vernon was once again fortunately not present. His new job required him to go to work earlier so Vernon left before Harry was even downstairs.

Aunt Petunia informed him that she was going shopping for the day and that Dudley would be out with friends, so he would have to work out his own lunch. Harry did not responded to message and simply walked back upstairs. Back in his room, Harry retrieved the list of goals he had created.

_Methods of Protection:_

_Wand Magic_

_Shielding_

_Wandless Magic_

_Apparition_

_Occulmency_

_Weapons_

_Martial Arts_

All of the techniques that required the aid of magic were basically useless to him right now as he could not perform any magic without the Ministry noticing. Harry wished he had asked someone how the ministry detected underage magic. He had never heard of a student being expelled due to using magic during the summer, so the Ministry must not keep that close of a watch on it. In fact, as far as he could tell they did not even know when a certain wand performed magic. The Ministry had thought the spell Dobby cast in his house was his own. The only way it made sense was that they identified underage magic according to where the underage witch or wizard lived. Harry was sure there were no witches or wizards living near him, so any magic done near Privet Drive was probably assumed to be his.

This must also mean that for children who lived in a magical household, it was up to the parents to enforce the law. Harry was almost positive Malfoy practiced magic at his house. He already knew how to ride a broom before he came to Hogwarts, no matter how incorrectly, and the boy knew too many spells during his first year to have never used them before.

Consequently the only tasks Harry could work on for now would be the last three: occulmency, weapons, and martial arts. He could not get anyone to use the Legilimancy spell on him for now, but he could at least try to shield his mind. The new book he bought, _Barriers Within: Building an Impenetrable Mind_, would definitely come in handy. Harry had no idea how he was going to learn how to use weapons or to do martial arts. For one, he did not actually own any sort of weapons. Secondly, he did not particularly favor the idea of physically attacking someone. However, he knew he needed to learn the methods if he ever needed to protect himself without his wand again. Maybe while he was on his run tomorrow he would look around in town for a way to learn about them.

Pulling out the book on Occulmency, Harry began to read about how to protect his mind. After only reading the first chapter Harry was surprised at how much he learned that Snape did not even touch on. The chapter was essentially an outline on what was necessary to occulde a person's mind. According to the author, the way Snape had tried to teach Harry was one of the most difficult and stressful ways to learn, and typically did not create a permanent block in the mind. The only advantage to it was if the person was caught by surprise a wall of sorts would automatically form in the mind. Harry supposed that this was Snape's intention, but still believed his professor had only taken such a brutal approach to make it as hard as possible for him.

_For the beginning Occulmens, the first step is to create a personal method in which to clear the mind of thoughts and emotions. Each person is unique and thus so is his or her thoughts and emotions. The fundamental rule of Occulmency is to never acknowledge the emptiness of thought, for that sheer action may drive it away. Simply let it exist. There are four basic foundations for one to build his or her original method from. You can use a combination of them if necessary, or not use them at all. They are simply guidelines and no one of them is easier or more complicated than you make it._

_The first technique is to write down all the worries and distraction that are filling your mind. By transferring these concerns to parchment, you are removing them from your mind. You must fully believe that by putting them in writing, they are no longer of consequence and are insignificant details to be bothered with at another time. If the same thought repeatedly comes into your head, jot it down again. Continue recording these images until the stream of feelings subsides. Be sure to close your eyes between additions, so as to put them out of sight and out of mind. Eventually the flood of thoughts will dwindle to nothing and you will be left with emptiness. For reasons that will be described later on, this __process is deemed by some as the most useful._

_The second option is create a screen of sorts in one's mind. On this screen, picture all of the problems, ideas and concerns plaguing you. Once these thoughts have filled the screen either embrace them and accept their presence or do away with them. Either way is effective in emptying the mind. If you choose to embrace them, you must do so wholly and completely. As must you do if you eliminate them. If you accept them allow the words and images to melt into one another until your screen becomes a single primary color. If you purge your mind of them, instead push them away to reveal the true color of the screen. Once the screen is clear your mind will be free of thoughts and emotions. _

_The third procedure is to envision an object in your mind's eye and allow all of your thoughts and worries to revolve solely around this object. At all times, relate everything you think about to this one object. Do not let your mind wander onto a different related topic as it might naturally want to. Instead overwhelm yourself with this object and its connections to the rest of the universe and its contents. Eventually your mind will be overcome with the complexness of it all, and all thoughts and emotions will escape, leaving you with complete and utter nothingness._

_The final choice is to picture yourself however, whenever, and wherever you please. Fashion a dream world in which you are the sole creator. Make yourself the controller of the universe and let everything within it center around you. Allow yourself to smell, hear, see, taste, and touch everything in this realm at the same time. Be in control of the world and thus the image of yourself within it. Believe that within this world you have complete power over your mind and allow yourself to delve into the emptiness entirely._

_If one of these methods does not work for you, try another or make your own. Do not give up if it does not come easily. For some it takes years of practice to fully become an Occulmens; to absolutely master this stage of the process, you must truly immerse yourself. A person cannot half wittingly become an Occulmens, and consequently you must successfully accomplish this step before moving on to the next. If the foundation upon which your skills are built is not solid, your mind will not withstand any intrusion, no matter how weak._

Harry set the book aside and pondered the methods the author suggested. All of Harry's previous attempts to clear his mind were only attempted halfheartedly because he never expected to achieve anything. If the book was right, he would really have to put his all into it.

Supposing he might as well start now, Harry reviewed the four methods and decided to try the first technique. With his quill in hand, Harry began writing down his thoughts.

_Will this work... Is it really any better than Snape's method…_

_ Will it help keep Voldemort out of my mind…_

_Is there any way to keep Voldemort out… _

_How can I protect anyone from him if he's in my head… _

_How am I supposed to defeat him… _

_I don't have any special powers… I can't even defend myself against a muggle…_

Harry continued on this train of thought for almost four feet of parchment before he exhausted himself, but his head was still full of varied thoughts and scrambled emotions. Frustrated Harry put the books aside and rested his head on his arms. The reflections had brought up worries he did not want to dwell on, and he could already feel a headache forming. Perhaps if he just closed his eyes for a moment the pain would fade…

_With slow realization, Harry realized that he was once again seated with the cold circular dungeon in the ornate chair. As he pushed the nausea away, Harry felt Voldemort's skeletal fingers clench around the arms the chair. However, his hands tightened not in disgust but in anticipation. Suddenly the creak of a door sounded from across the room._

_As each of the death eaters arrived they bowed low to the ground and kissed the hem of his robe delicately without a sound. Once each of them had taken their places in a semicircle around him, Voldemort stood and addressed his followers._

"_You must be wondering why I have called the eight of you here this early in the day."_

_The Death Eaters nodded their heads mutely._

"_I have a special task which will require your personal attention this evening. Wormtail, here, has finally gained knowledge of the location Potter's mudblood friend."_

_As Voldemort spoke the rat emerged from the circle and bowed before his lord. Now the Dark Lord spoke directly to his servant in question._

"_You have pleased me Wormtail. It would do well for the rest of you to follow such an example," Voldemort hissed as he gazed at the eight remaining the circle._

_Wormtail stood straighter at the praise for a couple of moments before quivering in fear as Voldemort's eyes returned to him._

"_Consequently, I desire that you Wormtail shall lead this expedition, alongside Lucius."_

_At the mention of his name Lucius jerked his head and eyed Wormtail loathingly, who glared back in defiance._

"_Now, now gentlemen, I believe that each of you will carry out this simple task beautifully," Voldemort admonished with a hint of the known threat darkening his voice._

_Wormtail returned to his place in the ring, and Lucius quickly stepped forward to replace him, bowing low in the process._

"_What is this mission that you desire of us, my lord?"Lucius asked with his head still bowed._

"_Do not speak unaddressed before the Dark Lord!" Wormtail snapped before the Voldemort responded._

_Lucius turned his head slightly to scowl with resentment at Pettigrew before returning his gaze to his master and bowing even lower._

"_A lesson you would do well to remember yourself, Wormtail," Voldemort hissed before focusing on Malfoy. "There is no need to be hasty in your displeasure; your assignment will soon be revealed. The purpose is to draw Potter out of the hole that Dumbledore has hidden him in. As I have proven in the past, the most effective way to distress Potter is through his emotions. This time we shall use his friendship with the mudblood."_

"_Seven of you shall travel to the mudblood's residence in almost an hour's time where we shall prove to the world that the Dark Lord's power is inescapable. Malfoy, you and Wormtail will take Bellatrix, the Lestrage Brothers, Crabbe, and Goyle to assist you; kill any muggles immediately, but use the mudblood as a demonstration. Bellatrix, I give that privilege to you personally."_

"_Thank you my lord, it shall be my pleasure," Bellatrix gushed with satisfaction._

"_As for you Snape, I have a new assignment for you that we will discuss after this meeting."_

"_As you wish," Snape whispered in return._

_Turning back to the remaining Death Eaters, Voldemort continued._

"_Destroy the house but leave the mudblood's body as evidence of our presence. If the order appears apparate immediately to the meeting area, and make sure they did not follow before coming here. Do not get captured by the fools; I do not intend to retrieve you again."_

_The Death Eaters that had recently broken out of Azkaban shuddered in remembrance._

"_My lord, but how will this draw out Ha…Potter?"_

_Voldemort turned his burning gaze to Wormtail and looked truly angry for the first time during the meeting._

"_I will not order you to be silent again, Wormtail!" Voldemort snarled. "_Crucio!_"_

_Wormtail collapsed to the ground, screaming as he clawed at his flesh trying to prevent the pain coursing through his body._

In his bedroom, Harry awoke to find himself sprawled on the floor. Lifting his shift gently, he saw that there were red streaks across his chest where he had apparently clawed at his skin in the same manner as Pettigrew. Luckily, the scratches had not broken the skin thanks to his shirt. Standing suddenly, as the meeting he had just witness came back to him; Harry began thinking quickly on how he could possibly save her in time. Voldemort had said that the Death Eaters would attack Hermione's house in less than an hour.

Harry realized that he had almost no idea where Hermione lived, except that it was within driving distance of the train station. Maybe if he used his broom, he could get Hedwig to lead him there. However, there was no guarantee that he would arrive before the Death Eaters. Furthermore, there was almost no way that Hermione and he alone could hold off all seven of them. Harry would need to alert Order somehow, but the only way he knew was to owl them. Unable to decide what to do, Harry slumped against the wall in frustration. Harry could hear the Hermione's warning to not play the hero, in the back of his mind, which forced him to remember the outcome of his last rescue attempt, but he knew this vision was different.

Finally accepting that the Order had the greatest possibility of saving Hermione and her family, Harry grabbed a spare bit of parchment and the quill on his desk and scribbled out a note explaining the situation. He attempted to fill the short letter with as much urgency as possible in fear that Dumbledore would view his vision as another trap from Voldemort. Turning to Hedwig's cage, Harry was filled with dismay to see that she was not there. Harry panicked as he realized that his alternative plan was also rendered useless.

Gasping for breath, Harry rushed to the window and threw it open wide in a desperate attempt to find Hedwig. Not seeing her figure among the trees or in the sky, Harry turned away and ripped the parchment into pieces.

Leaning against the windowsill, Harry whispered to himself, "Bloody hell! What am I supposed to do?"

He almost jumped with joy when he saw a movement in the bushes below his window. He had completely forgotten that the Order required a member to be at the house with him at all times. If he could contact one of them like Dudley had, they might be able to rescue Hermione and her family before the Death Eaters reached them. Almost tumbling down the stairs in his haste, Harry scrambled outside. Frantically searching the bushes and the rest of the yard, Harry begged that someone would appear. Remembering how Kingsley had hidden himself under the invisibility cloak when trailing him, Harry began calling quietly but urgently.

"Hello! Is there anyone out here? I need help!"

After repeating this several times in different area around the house, Harry was once again becoming desperate. Remus had told him that Dumbledore was keeping a closer eye on him, so where was the Order member? Turning back towards the front door, Harry struggled to think of yet another way to attempt to reach Hermione in time. He was not used to having to handle this kind of situation completely on his own. In all the other dangerous situations, Harry always had the support of his friends – this time he could only count on himself, and he was failing Hermione.

Unexpectedly, Harry felt a weight rest on his shoulder and heard a deep whisper in his ear.

"What do you need?" the voice asked seemingly out of nowhere.

Harry jerked away in shock and demanded, "Where…who are you?"

"Someone who can help," the voice simply responded

Feeling that he could somehow trust this individual and hoping that it was the Order member, Harry quickly described the situation but left out how he knew there was going to be an attack. The voice stayed silent during the explanation, but immediately began talking once Harry finished.

"Everything will be fine. Just stay here and don't leave the house. Someone will be here soon to let you know what happens."

Sensing that the disembodied was gone, Harry sat on the front steps and wondered if he had made the right decision. There must be something else he could have done. Was he just supposed to sit around and wait to see if the Death Eaters won? Harry kicked at the sidewalk in frustration. What did that man mean when he said someone would contact him? Had Harry just led the Death Eaters to his doorstep? As his thoughts persisted, Harry began to worry that maybe Voldemort had deceived him yet again.

Wanting to yell in aggravation, jumped from his perch on the steps and began to pace along the side of the house. He knew that Aunt Petunia would be furious if the neighbors saw him acting abnormal, but such gossip seemed particularly inconsequential in the face of his friend's possible death. Harry had experienced several situations where death was a possible outcome, but never had he felt as helpless as he did now.

Stalking past the bushes below his bedroom window, Harry snatched a stone from the ground at his feet and pitched it into the shadows beneath the shrubbery. To his astonishment, a grunt was emitted from the shadows and the rock bounced back into the sunlight. Harry retrieved his wand from his back pocket and gripped it securely. Easing forward, he began jabbing the wand into the darkness half hoping the noise was the work of his overwrought imagination. On the verge of surrendering his investigation, Harry's wand prodded something that released another guttural sound.

Thrusting forward once again with his wand, he leaned far into the bush and to his surprise tripped almost immediately. Scrambling away on his hand and knees, Harry looked back to see that his fall had exposed the lower half of was seem to be a man's body. Crawling slowly towards the unmoving bulk, Harry swept his arm from side to side until he felt the silky cloth of an invisibility cloak beneath his fingers. With a quick jerk Harry removed to cloak to reveal none other than Mundungous Fletcher covered in plant debris and smelling heavily of alcohol.

In exasperation Harry cried out, "I don't believe it. I don't bloody believe it."

Of all the Order members that Dumbledore could select to supposed watch of him, he had to choose the most careless one Harry knew about. He to kick the kick in his anger, but managed to restrain himself to just shaking him, albeit roughly. Nonetheless, the drunk still would not awaken. Finally, Harry slapped him across the face which brought Mundungous to his sense somewhat. As Mundungous came around he gazed at the Harry in confusion. Slowly his countenance morphed into an expression resembling intense concentration.

"Wa'happened," he finally managed to slur after several unsuccessful attempts to form words.

"What happened?" yelled Harry in irritation. "Nothing! Death Eaters are just attacking!"

See that this caused the look of confusion on the drunk's face to deepen into dread, Harry tried to calm himself.

"Never mind; you need to go to headquarters and warn everyone that Death Eaters are going to attack Hermione's house in less than a half hour."

Too slowly Harry watched as Dung tried to comprehend Harry's message. Harry almost growled as he realized that if the man even managed to reach Grimmauld Place, the chances that he would actually remember whose house the Death Eaters were attacking were very slight. Grabbing his arm and hauling the man to his feet, where he swayed dangerously, Harry dragged Dung into the house and leaned him against the wall. Harry spotted a fountain pen resting on the hall table, but there was no paper in sight. Feeling his anxiety heighten, Harry frantically searched for a scrap of newspaper or something.

"How am I supposed to know who to trust? The strange man who answers my call for help or the one passed out in the bushes?" Harry muttered to himself as he rummaged through a drawer.

Feeling precious time slip away, Harry finally grabbed Mundungous' arm and scrawled the message above his wrist.

_Death Eaters at Hermione's house now!_

Hoping someone would be able to read the scribble, Harry shoved the man out the door and began yelling at him to go to headquarters. Mundungous turned and slowly started to shuffle his way down the sidewalk.

"Just apparate!" Harry shouted.

"Can't…wards…" came the terse reply.

Harry watched until he heard the pop of Mundungous' apparation at the end of the street. Immediately feeling the exhaustion from not only the anxiety but also his recently healed wounds, Harry pulled himself into the house and collapsed into an arm chair in the family room. His last thought before he gave way to the weariness was,

"Who was that invisible man?"

Mundungous apparated directly in front of the door of Number Thirteen Grimmauld Place, and practically fell through the door in his hurry to relay his urgent message to Dumbledore. Once inside he began bellowing for the head of the Order, ignoring the fact that he woke the portrait of the infamous Mrs. Black in the process. Over the screech of Mrs. Black's cursing, Mundungous heard the shouts of several different people from the direction of the kitchen. Plowing through the kitchen door, he found a small meeting occurring consisting of Dumbledore, Charlie and Bill Weasley, both of whom had taken extended leave from their day jobs to assist the Order more thoroughly, Remus Lupin, and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Dumbledore, we've got a problem!" Mundungous shouted struggling to be heard over the screams of Mrs. Black.

Bill and Charlie rushed into the hall to try and silence the portrait, just was Mundungous abruptly fell into a chair. Extending his arm above the table, he allowed everyone to read the message Harry had written above his wrist and promptly let his head fall onto the table with a thud. Dumbledore's face creased with worry briefly before he sprang into action.

"Mundungous, I assumed that it was Harry who conveyed this to you?"

Dung nodded his head slowly but did not attempt to raise it. Turning back to the others in the room, Dumbledore began issuing orders.

"Kingsley, Bill," Dumbledore stated, nodding in their direction, "Gather some of our people and go to Ms. Granger's house immediately. Unfortunately, her family home is not connected to the floo so you'll have to apparate to our secure location in the area."

As the two left, Dumbledore turned his attention back to the other Weasley brother present.

"Charlie, go to the Burrow and inform your mother that she may have some unexpected house guests soon."

Charlie gave a quick nod and hurried out of the kitchen towards the fireplace in the library. Dumbledore grasped Mundungous' shoulder and gently shook the man awake as he had been snoring slightly.

"Did Harry mention anything else to you that seemed important?"

Mundungous furrowing his brow for a few moments as he tried to remember and said, "I think he mention'd somethin' about some odd man. He did'n say who but he seemed rather worried about it."

After looking slight concerned again Dumbledore turned to Remus and said, "Go to Harry's house and find out what you can. Try to keep him clam, and whatever you do don't let him leave the house. Voldemort is trying to draw Harry out, so keeping his there is of the utmost importance. Harry must stay in that house at all costs."

Remus and Dumbledore left together; and seeing that he was no longer useful, Mundungous promptly fell back asleep. However, he was roughly shaken awake minutes later by an irate Severus Snape.

"Wake up, you imbecile! I only have a few minutes," Snape commanded sharply.

Mundungous jumped away from the loud noise and brandished his arm to ward Snape off. Catching sight of the message on Mundungous' arm, Snape grabbed the limb and asked forcefully,

"Did you tell Dumbledore? Does he know of the attach?"

"Yeah, yeah…they left already," Mundungous mumbled unhappily and snatched his arm back.

Snape sighed in relief and responded, "When Dumbledore returns, inform him that I will not be able to make our meeting as planned due to…unforeseen responsibilities."

"Yeah…'sponsibilities…" Dung replied already falling back asleep.

Glaring at the once again slumbering man, Snape swept from the room.

Remus arrived at the end of Privet Drive and hurriedly walked to number 4. He rapped on the locked door, but when he did not receive an answer he quickly became worried.

"He can't have left already," he wondered out loud. "_Alohamora!_"

Sprinting through the now open door, Remus automatically ran upstairs to Harry's bedroom. He looked around for the boy but, of course, did not see him. Hoping to find something to indicate his whereabouts, Remus scanned the desk for any hints. Finding the torn letter, he quickly pieced the segments together and read the beginning of the letter Harry had written before realizing that Hedwig was not available. Growing increasingly worried, Remus rushed downstairs pleading that Harry was still in the house.

Harry was woken from his distressful slumber by the sound of the front door bursting open. He instinctively lay completely still as he heard someone running through the hall and up the stairs. Harry knew by the person's pace that it could not be his uncle returning home from work, and it was still too early for anyone to be notifying him about Hermione. Additionally, judging by the specific path that the individual made to his bedroom, Harry somehow doubted that the person was a friend.

Quietly Harry stood from the couch and made his way into the kitchen, where he would have a fair view of the stairs. He hid behind the wall separating the kitchen and the hallway and removed his grasped his wand tightly in his hand. He knew that Minister Fudge would be more that eager to expel him for using magic during the summer, but Harry feared the consequences would be worse if he did not.

Harry heard the person begin to come down the stairs and readied his wand. Praying he would not be seen, he carefully crept through the kitchen doorway and peered into the hallway. So surprised was he that it was not a Death Eater come to kill him, that Harry suddenly exhaled the breath of air he had been holding.

As he rushed to the bottom of the stairs, Remus' keen hearing picked up a faint sound from the direction of the kitchen. On the last step, he sprung forward and leveled his wand on the noise.

Vernon Dursley was having another rather horrid day at work. He should have been feeling wonderful as it was the first day in the last week or so that a lingering headache had finally abated. Additionally, he had managed to get his old job back at Grunning's Drills. However, his new secretary, who had seemed so promising during her interview, was constantly interrupting his work and pestering him with petty details that she should have been able to handle herself considering all of the previous experience she had.

To make matters worse, Vernon had received a letter from those _people_ as he left for work this morning from an _owl_. He could not believe they had the nerve to send one of those creatures to his front doorstep; any of the neighbors could have seen. Vernon shuddered as he thought of the consequences. The contents of the letters were even more disturbing. Dumbledore, that blasted man, was informing Vernon that he could trust his new secretary. Of course he could! Vernon had himself hand-picked her from the applicants.

Moreover, ever since those people had barged into his home last week Vernon was suspicious of nearly everything he read in the paper. All of those disappearances and deaths he read about…they could all be the result of that villain that he most certainly did not know, even though everyone kept insisting he did. If the man was half as bad as they made out, then everyone was doomed. Just thinking about all the atrocities they had described to make his family believe madeVernon shiver in fright. He specifically remembered their faces when he had asked why they could not just zap the criminal with their sticks – was that not what they were there for? The one with the ghastly pink hair had actually laughed at him.

To say the least, Vernon was looking forward to a pleasant evening at home with a generous first-rate dinner with a hefty glass of brandy and just having a nice and quiet _normal_ time with his family.

Once Harry realized Remus was aiming his wand straight at him, Harry jumped back behind the kitchen wall. He wanted to believe that this was actually Remus, but feared that it could just as likely be a death eater.

"Harry, it's me! Remus!" Lupin called from the stairwell.

"Prove it!" Harry yelled back.

After a moment's pause Remus responded, "Sirius escaped from Azkaban using his animagus, a large black dog. The dementors couldn't sense him as Padfoot so he slipped through the bars of his cell and swam away."

Hearing these words, Harry slumped in relief. He could not believe how paranoid he was of everyone. Harry walked back into the kitchen and offered a small smile.

"Sorry about that," he said quietly.

"It's quite alright, Harry. After everything you've been through you have more right than most of us to be cautious. On that note…why was I not able to help catch Peter?"

"It was a full moon…once we came out of the secret path leading to the shrieking shack you immediately turned into a werewolf and Wormtail escaped," Harry responded promptly.

Remus nodded and they both relaxed somewhat.

"We should probably come up with a password or something. What does the Order usually do?"

"We have ways of recognizing each other regardless of the situation. I'll look into working out a system for you."

Remus gestured across the hall to the family room and Harry began walking towards the indicated room. However, to both their surprise, the front door burst open suddenly. Without warning both Remus and Harry fired a stunner in that direction. To their astonishment it was Vernon Dursley who now lay sprawled on the ground, his mouth open in shock. They both stared at his prone figure before Harry eventually said, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to see that."

Remus chuckled a little as he slowly levitated the body to the couch in the sitting room.

"Perhaps we should wait a bit before we eneverate him. I imagine he will not be in the best of moods after having two wands used against him," Remus suggested.

Harry nodded slightly as he took a seat in the armchair to the right of the couch. His cheerfulness at his uncle's situation was quickly fading as he remembered why Remus was most likely at Privet Drive.

"Professor, why are you here?" he asked warily.

Seeing the apprehension in Harry's face, Remus answered carefully. "I don't have any information about Hermione. After Dung arrived at Headquarters, Dumbledore ordered some of our people to her house and sent me here right away."

Harry's face eased some at hearing this but he was still anxious. Why had Dumbledore sent someone to babysit him, instead of using everyone to help Hermione? Harry clenched his fist in frustration as Remus took the chair across from him.

"Harry, what else do you know about the attack?"

"There were seven Death Eaters going," Harry whispered, "Wormtail, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, the Lestrange brothers, and…Bellatrix. They're supposed to kill Hermione's parents and torture Hermione before killing her as well.

Remus nodded for Harry to continue.

"Snape was also at the meeting, but he wasn't supposed to be part of the attack. Voldemort had a special assignment for him or something," Harry continued. "Shouldn't he have warned the Order about the attack?"

"It is sometimes difficult for Snape to escape safely and warn Dumbledore. I'm sure that if it was at all possible he would have," Remus assured him.

The conversation slowed with each caught in his own thoughts. Eventually, Remus continued with a slightly confused expression etched on his brow.

"Harry, how did you know there was going to be an attack at Ms. Granger's house? No owl could have reached you in time."

"I had another vision," Harry answered, not looking Lupin in the eye. "It was the first one sin – last term."

"I'm not questioning you're judgment, but how did you know that this one was genuine?"

Harry hesitated, hearing Lupin's unspoken question in the back of his mind. "How do you know it's not a trap like last time?" He understood Lupin's uncertainty and the man had a right to know, but Harry wasn't sure he was ready to explain.

After a few more moments of silence Harry finally replied, "The real visions are always from Voldemort's point of view. The one that Voldemort put in my head was from my own viewpoint."

From the expression on Lupin's face, Harry could tell that the man was horrified, even if he was trying to hide it. Lupin's eyes lowered as he pondered the revelation. Thinking that Lupin's silence was due to his disgust of Harry, he tried to change the subject.

"Professor, I was wondering if you could explain something to me."

Lupin looked up from his contemplation, and nodded at Harry.

"Of course, but how many times am I going to tell you not to call me Professor," Lupin asked smiling slightly.

Harry tried to smile back, but could only form of grimace of sorts, which the perceptive Lupin picked up on.

"I was wondering why you didn't turn into a werewolf until we came out of the passage on that night."

"Ah, I was curious to know if you noticed that. Ms. Granger, in fact, bombarded me with the questions the very next time we met. As you know Professor Snape was, and still is, brewing the Wolfsbane Potion for me. You may recall that I had forgotten to take the potion for a few nights that week due to my anxiety about Sirius."

Lupin paused to make sure Harry understood so he nodded to indicate Remus should continue.

"Not many people know this but, in addition to allowing me to keep my mind during the transformation, the potion causes a delay in the transformation if I am not directly exposed to the light of the full moon. On that night, the potion was still partially in my system so the delay was in effect; however, unfortunately, once I did transform I had no control over the wolf."

Harry shuddered in remembrance of the creature that the professor had become and the fear the alteration had instilled in him. Remus seemed to notice this and looked away sadly for a moment before he continued.

"I am truly sorry for the terror that I caused you. That is my greatest fear – that I shall hurt those I love."

Harry looked up, somewhat surprised at Remus' words.

"Yes, Harry, believe it or not I do love you. I am rather sad that you would think otherwise."

"How…how can you? After all of the pain I've caused you."

"You have never caused me any pain, Harry, none at all."

"But everything's my fault. My connection with Voldemort killed Sirius," Harry admitted aloud for the first time. "If I –"

Remus stood and interrupted Harry.

"Do you blame me for Peter's escape?"

"What? Of course I don't - you can't control the fact that you're a werewolf… "

"Exactly, Harry. And you can't control the evil that Voldemort performs. You can't prevent your bond with Voldemort anymore than I can prevent my own relation with lycanthropy."

"But, if -," Harry started.

"No buts, Harry. I know how you feel. I experience it after every full moon…if only I could do something to prevent this. But, we can't…and unfortunately we have to accept it."

Harry did not know what to say, but somehow he could not quite trust Remus' words. He wanted to believe them with all of his being, but somehow he felt that there must be something he could do to stop Voldemort…there had to be something…

Harry was interrupted from the conflict in his mind as a sharp tapping noise sounded from the window in front of the couch. Remus and Harry turned to see a tawny owl perched on the windowsill with a parchment clutched in its beak. Harry sprang from his seat and rushed to the window, but Remus grabbed his arm and prevented him reaching it.

"Let me get it…just in case," Remus said in explanation.

Slightly frustrated Harry stepped back and let Remus past him. Remus pushed open the window and allowed the owl to fly in and land on the mantle. Remus quickly closed the window and carefully removed the letter from the bird's beak. He scanned the content, and, smiling, handed it to Harry.

_Remus,_

_ Thankfully, the task was a success and no one sustained any serious injuries. However, there seems to be a slight bafflement requiring our informer's attention. If you would kindly request his presence upon your return, I would be ever so grateful._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. I intercepted the Ministry's owl, and straightened out any possible difficulties; so no need for concern._

Remus saw the relief flood Harry's face as he read the letter, but also noted a slight grimace near the end. Deciding the expression did not refer to the Ministry owl, he sat beside the boy and reached for the letter.

"Looks like you get to visit with Hermione then…" Remus said folding the note and tucking it into his pocket.

"Huh? She'll be staying at headquarters?"

"I suspect that she and her family will remain there or at the Burrow for protection."

"Oh," Harry responded mildly, imagining Rom and Hermione having fun at the Burrow while he was closeted away in Privet Drive.

"I suspect she won't be at Grimmauld Place for long as it might be too much for her parents, but at least you'll get to see her."

Harry just nodded, thinking of hard it would be to see the house without its former occupant. Sirius had hated the place while he was living, so it was just going to make Harry hate it all that much more now that his godfather was no longer there.

"Harry, I know this will be hard for you. I miss him too, but we have to grieve for him and move on. Use his death as another reason to continue fighting the evil in the world," Remus insisted.

Harry could feel the tears welling in his eyes and finally he let them fall. Harry leaned against the wall beside the window and raised his hand to cover his eyes. He felt Remus approach and clasp his shoulders tightly. Remus pulled the boy towards him, but Harry resisted.

"It's alright to cry, Harry. It's the only way to let Sirius go."

"But I don't _want_ to lose him," Harry replied brokenly.

"You will always have the memories of your times together – that's all we have. Cherish that."

Harry stood stiffly against Remus for several more moments before his tears subsided. He stared at his feet for several more seconds before shrugging out from under Remus' hands.

"There no need to be ashamed. I have done my fair share of it already," Remus said softly.

Harry glanced up to see that Remus' eyes were a little red-rimmed.

"You don't have to go to headquarters today. I think I might be able to head off the old codger for a little while longer if you want," Remus joked trying to lighten the mood.

Harry smiled slightly but said, "No, I have to go sometimes."

"If you're sure…," Remus hesitated. He stared hard at Harry by gave in easily enough. "You may want to pack bag; it's rather late and you'll most likley spend the night. I have a portkey for my trip back, so we won't be flying through any wet clouds," Remus stated, chuckling as he remembered Moody's overzealous efforts the previous summer.

He gripped Harry's shoulder once more before the two headed upstairs to Harry's room. The first thing that Harry noticed was that Hedwig had still not returned from her nightly hunt.

"I hope she's okay," Harry thought. "She doesn't usually take this long."

Remus, noticing Harry's gaze, said, "Don't worry, she's a smart owl. She'll find you at Grimmauld Place."

Knowing Remus was right, Harry rummaged through his trunk to find a rucksack.

"I just need to bring muggle clothes, right?"

"That should be fine. We may head to Diagon Alley tomorrow, but you needn't have robes just for that."

Harry grabbed some sleeping garments and an extra outfit for tomorrow and threw them in the bag with his toothbrush.

"So, what do you think we should do with your Uncle?" Remus asked as they headed back downstairs. "Revive him or just make a run for it?"

Although he wanted to say the latter, Harry suggested, "We should probably eneverate him. Aunt Petunia might come home and think he died or something."

"Well, let's leave from the sitting room then. Have you got everything you need?"

Harry replied in the affirmative, and they went to stand beside the couch where Vernon was still lying out cold. Remus pulled out an old chipped teacup from his pocket, which Harry recognized as the portkey. Remus held the cup out to Harry, who placed a finger on the rim. Remus also rested the tip of his wand on the edge to activate the portkey. Angling his wand slightly so that pointed towards the prone figure on the couch and said, "Eneverate!" Before Harry's uncle had time to adjust, Remus whispered "One, two, three, activate!"

Harry felt the familiar tug behind his navel just as he heard his uncle's voice roar, "What have you done, boy!"


	5. Auspicious Omen

Disclaimer: Ditto

Chapter V: Auspicious Omen

A/N: I uploaded the wrong document for chapter 4, so go back and read it again. It's completely new (as of 2/17/11)! Sorry for the confusion!

* * *

_Tuesday, July 9, 1996 - 7:00 am_

"I know we should have explained the situation to your uncle, but it just didn't seem worth the effort," Remus sighed as the landed in a dark alley.

Harry did not respond, but he wholeheartedly agreed. He had had enough of his angry uncle to last a lifetime and then some. Remus had to help Harry up from the cement, where he had, of course, fallen immediately upon arriving. Harry remembered once again why he always dreaded portkey travel, even more than flooing. While Harry was brushing himself off, Remus looked around swiftly for nosy muggles or anyone else. After affirming that they had not been spotted, he ushered Harry forward.

"Do you remember the address?" Remus whispered to him.

Harry nodded, knowing that he would never forget it. "The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London"

Once they moved close enough, Harry was still surprised to see the building emerge between numbers 11 and 13. They immediately entered, closing the door quietly so as not to awake Mrs. Black. Harry stopped walking as soon as they were inside and simply gazed at his surroundings. Memories swam before his eyes as he remembered seeing Sirius throughout the place. Remus waited until Harry had control of himself before moving on.

"There should be a room open on the second floor upstairs where you can put your bag. I'm staying in one of the rooms and Bill and Charlie Weasley are in two of the others."

Upstairs, Harry found that one of the open rooms was the same one that he and Ron had stayed in last year. Harry noticed that there was only one bed in there now so it seemed much more spacious. To his amusement, one of Ron's vivid orange Chudley Cannon posters was still pinned on the wall.

"Dumbledore won't be here until any trouble with the Ministry is cleared up, but everyone else is probably in the kitchen," Remus told Harry, interrupting his observations.

In the entrance hall once more, the two walked down the basement stairs and entered the kitchen where Tonks was having a rather involved argument with someone that Harry did not recognize. Remus quickly strode into the room and pulled Tonks away from an angry woman, which seemed a wise move as Tonks' hair was rapidly changing colors as she became more infuriated. To Harry's surprise at the breakfast table were Charlie, Hermione, and a man who seemed to be frozen in shock as stared into space. Charlie seemed to be attempting to get the man to talk, and Hermione had her face buried in her hands. Not desiring to get in the middle of the two women as Remus had, Harry silently walked to the table and leaned across it towards Hermione.

"Um, Hermione, what's going on?" he whispered to her.

"Oh Harry!" Hermione exclaimed at hearing his voice. She jumped from her seat and ran around the table to throw her arm around his neck.

"Harry?" questioned the woman who had previously been arguing with Tonks. "Is that him! _Hermione Jane Granger_ you get away from that boy this instant!"

"Mum!" Hermione shouted, turning away from Harry. "You have no right to say that about him. You don't even understand!"

"I think I understand perfectly well, young lady," Mrs. Granger retorted. "He's the reason we're here right now, instead of at home. He's the reason you've been put in danger. _He's_ the reason we're _all_ in danger!"

"Harry's the reason the reason we're still alive!"

"Hermione, get away from him right now! I don't trust him and I will not allow you to be in harm's way any longer!"

Harry was astonished by this exchange he was witnessing between mother and daughter. He knew his friends would stand by his side against the idiocy of their fellow students, but that Hermione would stand against her own mother, amazed him.

In the corner, Harry could hear Tonks whispering fervently to Remus. From what he could understand Tonks wanted to stun the irate mother, but Remus was insisting it would only intensify her reactions.

Suddenly, Mrs. Granger surged forward as if to physically remove her daughter, but the formerly silent man at the table commanded in a stern voice, "Margaret, stop this. Hermione wouldn't defend him, especially against us, if she didn't truly trust him."

"But! -" she attempted to interrupt.

"No," the man said firmly, "Let's trust our daughter."

This seemed to stem Mrs. Granger's anger and she visibly deflated. Seeing that the woman was restraining herself, Remus and Tonks moved towards the couple.

"Come on," Hermione whispered to Harry in a quavering voice. "Let's get out of here before they start again."

She led Harry upstairs to the hallway and into the library, where she barely made it to the sofa before she collapsed into tears. Harry knelt by her side but was not sure how to comfort her .It seemed that every time a girl cried around him he just make matters worse.

"Hermione don't cry. Everything is going to be all right; Remus will sort it out," he said as he gently rubbed he back.

"All right!" Hermione practically yelled as her face flew up. "Harry, I just fought with my mother because she thinks you're some kind of deranged idiot who's trying to get everyone killed."

"Well, it's not like that's something new. Someone always thinks I'm a loony."

"But this is my mum. She should trust me enough to believe what I say," Hermione whispered brokenly.

"Your mum is just worried that her daughter is in danger. She probably doesn't even know the whole story, right?"

"No, she doesn't. I try to never tell them about the situations we get in during school. And it didn't help that the moment we got here I started asking if you were alright. Mum asked why I was worrying about you all of a sudden, and I told her that the Death Eaters may have thought you were at our house or something. So, of course she jumped to conclusions and our explanations didn't help any. I'm so sorry Harry."

"Hermione, don't worry about me; none of this is your fault. Your mom's a muggle, so she doesn't really understand our world, especially since there's a war going on," Harry said as he sat beside her on the couch.

"I know my relatives don't understand at all," Harry thought to himself.

"I know, Harry, I just wish this stupid war wasn't happening. It's just too much for my parents on top of everything else."

"I understand. I'm sorry I couldn't stop –"

"Oh no, don't you dare blame yourself. This war isn't your fault, it's V-Voldemort's," Hermione urged, some of her usual energy coming back.

Harry paused and responded, "That's basically what Pro-Remus told me."

"He's right and you know it. You're only fifteen years old Harry. Everything doesn't rest on your shoulders."

Harry tensed at her choice of vocabulary as the words of the prophecy flashed through his mind. He knew he would have to tell his friends eventually, but he was still coming to grips with the concept himself. As Harry tried to think of a way to guide the conversation into a safer direction, his scar suddenly burst into pain.

Harry cried out as he clutched at his forehead.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, reaching for his arm. "What's wrong!"

"Scar…" Harry gasped, rocking back and forth in pain.

Harry could feel Voldemort's fury as he cursed someone. Voldemort must have found out that Lucius and Wormtail's mission was a failure and was punishing them for it. Slowly he felt the pain subside and sat back against the couch.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, as he focused on breathing deeply. "Do you want me to get someone?"

"No," Harry responded. "There's no point…he's just angry that you escaped."

Changing the subject, Hermione asked him another question to try and get his mind on something else.

"What are doing here anyway? I mean, I'm glad you're here, but…"

"Dumbledore wants to see me about something, so Remus brought me back with him. Dumbledore seemed to think I needed a babysitter while we waited for news," Harry informed her heatedly. "Remus was supposed to make sure I didn't do anything foolish, I guess."

"Wait, how did you know about the attack? You had another vision, didn't you?" Hermione asked, her voice laced with worry.

Harry nodded his head in response. "Did the Order get there before the Death Eaters?"

He was trying to not show any emotion, but he was silently praying that the Order got there before anyone was hurt.

"I don't know actually. We left just as I saw the Death Eaters."

"How did you get away if the Order wasn't there?" Harry asked, now thoroughly confused.

"A man showed up under an invisibility cloak and said we had to leave immediately because there was an emergency," Hermione said, now sounding as confused as Harry looked. "I have no idea who he was…

Harry realized with a start that the man sounded like the same one who had helped him. Harry could tell that the fact the she had no idea who he that man was really irked Hermione. He wondered how long it would before she tried to figure out the mystery.

"Hermione, I think I know who you're talking about. After I had the vision, I went outside to find the Order member that's supposed to be watching me, and that invisible man showed. I don't know who he was, but I took the chance and told him. Afterwards, I found Mundungous passed out in the bushes."

Hermione made a face at the thought that Dung might have been her only chance at escaping the Death Eaters.

"How did he get you to Headquarters?"

"It wasn't really by choice…I was trying to get him to reveal himself, but he kept insisting that there was no time. My parents heard me arguing in the doorway so they came to find out what was going on. The man suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. I screamed and both of my parents grasped my other arms and then suddenly we were standing outside the front door of Grimmauld Place. I could tell he used a portkey to transport us here, but he disappeared immediately afterwards."

Harry shook his head in shock. Whoever the man was he was obviously desperate to keep his identity secret, but apparently on their side.

"I had a bit of trouble getting my parents inside as they obviously didn't believe this place was here, but thankfully Snape came out of the front door and helped. He was able to get my parents inside and then he contacted Dumbledore."

Harry was trying to imagine Snape helping anyone when the library door opened and Remus walked in.

"Hermione, we've managed to convince your parents, for now, that Harry isn't a psychotic, and they want to speak with you," Remus informed them.

Seeing the obvious apprehension in her face, he added, "" Don't worry, you're mother is much calmer now."

Hermione have a firm nod and headed out the door. Remus took the vacated seated beside Harry and seemed to wait for Harry to ask something. After a moment of watching Harry stare at the ground absently, he started the conversation.

"I'm surprised, Harry, I was sure you would be bursting with questions about what just happened in the kitchen."

Harry shrugged and responded, "I'm kind of used to people thinking I'm crazy by now."

Seeing Remus' face grow slightly irritated at that statement, Harry continued, "I was actually more worried about the man Hermione said rescued them."

Remus' expression changed to one of puzzlement now.

"Yes, Tonks explained the mysterious rescuer to me before she left; however, no one seems to have the slightest idea of who he is."

"Well, I don't know who he is," Harry told Remus, "but I think I've met him."

Remus looked to Harry in surprise. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Harry shrugged once again and said, "Honestly, I just forgot."

Harry went on to tell Remus about his encounter with the invisible man. Remus did not seem to know whether he should look enlightened or more confused.

"Well that explains how he knew that the Grangers were in danger, and hopefully rules out adverse connection to You-Know-Who," Remus muttered to himself.

To Harry he said, "More importantly, how did he know where you lived. We've got everything except the Fidelius Charm protecting your house."

Harry was not very surprised to hear that his house was so well protected, though he rather wondered on the fact that it did not seem to do much good. Further discussion was interrupted again by the library door opening. Harry Remus looked up to see Dumbledore stride into the room.

"It seems that you two have already started on the topic I wanted to discuss with Harry," Dumbledore said as he approached them.

Harry felt himself grow angry seeing the old man, but even now there was a touch of guilt present from their last interaction. Although Harry no longer truly trusted Dumbledore as he used to, he still recognized that the man was his elder and the head of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry tried to calm himself, but he knew that his effort was almost certainly useless as Dumbledore probably already knew what he was thinking.

"I really need to master Occulmency," Harry thought sullenly.

"Remus, you may stay or leave as you wish. My conversation with Harry should not take long. Lemon drop, anyone?"

Dumbledore pulled a sack of the candies from his pocket and proffered them to the others but both declined. Deciding to cut the small talk, Harry asked the pressing question.

"Headmaster, do you know who the man is?"

Dumbledore stared at Harry intensely, almost challengingly, for a few moments before answering.

"Unfortunately, no; as of yet, we have not discovered his identity. In fact, I was hoping that you might be able to enlighten us."

For the third time that day Harry repeated his account of his meeting with the mysterious stranger.

"You're sure he didn't say anything at all about himself."

"I'm positive. He just said he'd help and then he left."

Dumbledore looked intently at Harry once again before continuing, "I've already talked with the Grangers and I'm afraid they do not have any information as to his identity either. However, I do believe that they wish to speak with you, Harry."

Seeing that he would be allowed no further information, Harry left the room in a huff. Even after everything that had happened, Dumbledore still refused to speak with him about anything concerning the war. Harry scuffed his feet in annoyance as he travelled through the entrance hallway towards the basement door. He heard the front door slam as someone hurried down the hall, just as he passed the portrait of Mrs. Black. Of course, the abrupt bang of the door awoke the terror of the household and she instantly began screaming her pureblood tirade.

"HOW DARE YOU SET FOOT IN THE ANCIENT AND NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK! BEGONE FROM HERE, TRAITOR!"

It took a moment for Harry to realize that even though he was but a few feet from the picture frame, the mad woman was not referring to him. Turning back he saw someone in a heavy cloak with the hood up, which Harry found peculiar especially this time of year, struggling to close the drapes surrounding the frame. Harry, who didn't desire to listen to the Mrs. Black's shrieks either, sprinted back to help. Once he was standing in front of her, Mrs. Black began addressing her diatribe at him.

"AND YOU! I SHALL NEVER ALLOW A HALFBLOOK TO RULE MY HOUSEHOLD. LEAVE OR –"

Gripping the loose curtain tightly in his hands, Harry and his partner managed to wrench the drapes together cutting of the portrait's threats. Harry had almost lost his grip when he heard was Mrs. Black said. Wondering what the statement meant exactly, Harry looked up to see that the person's hood had fallen down to reveal Professor Snape. Already tired from the stressful day and certainly not up to a row with the spiteful man, Harry turned to leave but saw a dire, almost panicked, look in his professors' eyes.

"Sir, is everything okay?" Harry asked tentatively.

At Harry's words Snape seemed to collect himself and his disdainful mask fell back into place.

"Potter," he spat with revulsion. "Find Dumbledore and inform him to meet me in the study. The matter is most urgent, _move_."

Without waiting for a response Snape swept from the room and Harry was left feeling irritated by the man's contempt yet relieved that he had simply gone. Harry walked back to the library and knocked on the now locked door. Remus quickly opened it and stood aside to let Harry in.

"Headmaster," Harry said taking a step inside the library. "Snape just came in and said he needed to meet with you in the study immediately."

"_Professor_ Snape, Harry." Dumbledore corrected. "I should have guessed it was him, though. He is the only person I know who has the audacity to invoke Mrs. Black's wrath."

With that Dumbledore hurried out of the room, muttering about making an attempt to remove the picture again; leaving Harry to wonder what information Snape carried that was of such importance. Although, he knew he should go and speak with the Grangers, Harry wanted to ask about what Mrs. Black was yelling.

"Remus, were you listening to what Mrs. Black was screaming," Harry asked uncertainly.

"I am assuming you mean the bit about ruling this household?" Remus asked softly.

Harry nodded silently and Remus rubbed a hand across his face.

"Harry, why don't you take a seat? I had hoped this wouldn't come up so soon, but that blasted portrait…" Remus trailed off.

Remus spoke as he began to walk along bookshelves lining the walls of the library. Harry sat but was now wishing he had not asked. Form Remus' reaction to his question, Harry had a fair idea what was going on and he did not like it.

"About a week before Sirius passed through the veil, Sirius created his will. He understood that a war was going on, so he took the necessary precautions. Many of us have in the past few weeks."

Remus paused to allow the information sink in. Harry remained completely still, but nodded his head tersely for Remus to continue.

"A few days ago, I found the explanatory letter for the will in Sirius' old bedroom. This letter explains who is to be present when the will is reveal, and what object the vessel is.

At this Harry looked at Remus in confusion, so he explained further.

"I'm sure you're aware that a muggle will is simply a piece of paper stating to whom the deceased possessions pass on to."

Harry nodded and Remus continued.

"A wizard's will is similar in that it announces where the possessions go; however, the actual will is a magical imprint of the deceased which is transferred into an object typically referred to as the vessel. The vessel is usually of magical origin to enhance the duration and quality of the will. Sirius chose a framed photograph, from the day you were born, to use as his vessel."

As he finished his explanation of a magical will, Remus stopped walking along the bookshelves and stood in front of a large book with a deep purple bind, which he tapped several times with the tip of his wand. On the fourth tap, the book disappeared to reveal a small opening, from which he pulled a picture frame and a letter. Returning to his seat on the couch beside Harry, Remus presented the two items to the boy. Harry grasped them with trembling hand and put the picture aside to read the letter.

_To whom this may concern,_

_ Kreacher, if you are to find this letter, I, Sirius Orion Black, invoke my command that you are to personally hand this letter to Remus John Lupin immediately completely undamaged. Do not reavel this letter or its contents to anyone other than Remus John Lupin._

_This letter is to inform Remus John Lupin of the vessel in which the last will and testament of Sirius Orion Black is encased. I created this will as a completely same wizard under no duress or other such conditions that would lead to artificial or inaccurate statements. The final version of this will was signed and sealed on May 3, 1996._

_The vessel in which my will is encased is a picture resting on the black armoire in my old bedroom. The photograph was taken on July 31, 1980, the day Harry James Potter was born._

_During the hearing of this will, I request that the people and groups of people be present:_

_Harry James Potter_

_Remus John Lupin_

_Nymphadora Andromeda Tonks_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Biran Dumbledore_

_Hermione Jane Granger (and her parents if she so desires)_

_the Weasley family (all nine of you)_

_Kingsley Shane Shacklebolt_

_and_

_Severus Snape_

_To all of these people whom I cared about and loved I am terribly sorry that the event of my death has occurred. I wish I could have had more time to renew past friendships and develop recent ones._

_I thank you all for your friendship and love._

_ Sirius Orion Black_

As Harry finished reading the letter, he realized that silent tears were slowly streaming down his face. After setting aside the letter carefully so as not to get it wet, Harry reached his shaking hands towards the framed photograph. However, due to the unsteadiness of his hands, Harry only managed to knock the frame to the ground. Remus swiftly leant over and lifted it from the ground, as Harry could only stare at the fallen object helplessly. Remus handed it gently to Harry, who was so overwhelmed with emotion he could not form words in response.

The photo had been taken in the hospital room just after his birth. Lily was holding him in her arm, obviously exhausted but beaming with happiness. Sitting on the side of the bed beside her was James; he had his arm around her and was stroking the baby's head with this other hand. Every few seconds he would gaze at his wife and child in sheer wonder. Remus was on Lily's other side, helping hold her up. He too was grinning unrestrainedly with glee; Harry realized, looking at the picture, that he had never seen Remus looking so happy. Sirius was standing lightly behind James, and bouncing up and down with delight like a child himself. He kept clapping James on the shoulder and puffing out his chest. Every so often he would point to the child, then to himself, and mouth the word "godfather."

After staring at the images for several minutes, Harry carefully laid the picture beside the letter and began scrubbing the tears away from his face. Remus gave him another minute to collect himself before he continued.

"Harry, we have the hearing of the will as soon as we're up to it. No one else knows of the will, as I was the first to find it. I felt that you had the right read it before someone else told you."

"Can – can we wait a bit?" Harry murmured.

"That's fine, Harry. Why don't we schedule it a week from today, perhaps next Wednesday?"

Harry nodded and whispered, "Thanks, Remus."

Remus smiled in response and stood to leave to give Harry some privacy, but the boy stood also and walked with him carrying the letter and photograph.

"Can I have these once…once we're done?" Harry asked, indicating the two items.

"Of course you can. If you want anything in remembrance from this house, just ask. There are a few things in his room I'm positive he would want you to have."

Harry was glad Remus was allowing him to keep the letter and picture. The only things he had to remember his godfather by were a few pictures in his photo album and his Firebolt. These new items were something directly from Sirius.

"I need to contact the necessary people for the hearing to make sure they can be here next week. I believe there's a meeting next Wednesday, so we can have the ceremony afterwards."

Harry nodded and offered the letter to Remus, who took it and headed upstairs to use the fireplace in his room. Harry turned walking down the hall in the opposite directiontowards the basement door as he remembered that the Grangers wanted to talk with him. He slipped the picture frame into his pocket as he was not to explain it to anyone. Harry entered the room to see the Grangers speaking softly amongst themselves at the kitchen table. They seemed to be more at ease with their situation now, but Harry could see that Hermione was still rather tense. Mrs. Granger noticed Harry standing in the doorway and ushered him into the room.

"Hello, Harry," she greeted softly. "I hope you'll forgive me for what I said earlier. I had the wrong impression of you and I can only say how truly sorry I am."

"It's alright, Mrs. Granger. I actually kind of understand why you jumped to that conclusion."

The woman smiled brightly, and her husband stood to join the conversation.

"Harry, I don't believe we've been introduced properly. My name is Rupert Granger and this is my wife Margaret. We've heard much about from our Hermione; although, seemingly not enough considering all we've learned this afternoon," he said kindly.

Harry shook his hand and nod to Mrs. Granger. Although his first encounter with them was not enjoyable, the Grangers seemed like a pleasant enough coulple.

However, Harry was beginning to feel like a well read storybook as more and more people were told his history without his knowledge. First, Dumbledore told the Dursleys everything what had happened to him in the last few years, and now he had informed the Grangers. Harry tolerance of his Headmaster was growing dangerously thin. Harry took care not to let his emotion show on his face as these thoughts raced through his head, but Hermione seemed to notice anyway.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked quietly, as he sat at the table beside her. "You seem rather upset."

Harry noticed that she was looking at his eyes and realized that they must be red rimmed from earlier.

"I'll tell you later," he replied softly, hoping she would drop it.

Hermione looked at his puzzled, but was prevented from replying as Dumbledore and Snape entered the kitchen in the middle of an argument.

"We need to tell the boy so he won't do anything foolish," Snape was saying fervently.

"I feel it's better if he doesn't know. Ignorance is bliss, after all," Dumbledore responded assuredly.

Upon discovering they had an audience, Dumbledore abruptly ended the conversation and addressed everyone in the kitchen.

"It seems you all have sorted out your differences, wonderful. Now, Remus requested that we gather in here for a short meeting, but I am afraid I do not see him here."

"Here I am, sir." Remus called from the doorway. "If you would take a seat, I'll explain."

Dumbledore say beside Mr. Granger, leaving the only extra char beside Harry to his dismay. Snape grudgingly took the seat, to the discomfort of them both.

Remus stood at the head of the table and began his explanation.

"Last week I found Sirius' will in his bedroom," he announced.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, as she glanced between Harry and Remus.

"A concealment spell had been placed on it so that only Harry or I could find the letter. This letter indicated the vessel in which his will is held."

Harry could see Hermione quietly talking to her parents and assumed she was giving them a short explanation of a magical will.

"The letter also included a list of the people that Sirius desired to be present at the hearing."

"Then why was _I_ asked to come to this meeting?" Snape interjected. "I want nothing further to do with that mongrel."

Harry felt himself anger at Snape's blatantly disrespectful comment and beat Remus in responding.

"Because he wants you there; and it would do you well to honor his wish," Harry ground out without looking at the man to his right.

Snape was obviously taken aback by this information but quickly covered it up. He began to retort but Dumbledore fixed him with a gaze across the table that clearly said remain silent. Remus began talking once again as the commotion died down.

"The vessel itself is a photograph. Harry, if you would?"

Harry gently removed the picture from his pocket and laid it in the middle of the table so everyone could see it.

"It will only activate when everyone requested is present. I felt that a convenient time for everyone might be after our meeting on Wednesday next week," Remus suggested looking at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore asked for the names of everyone on the list and replied that Wednesday would fine. Harry turned Hermione to see that tears were silently falling down her face. Her mother was grasping her hand across the table and gently stroking it as she tried to comfort her daughter. Harry felt an envious throb in his heart, looking as the scene.

Dumbledore and Remus were the first to leave the room, discussing how to best contact Kingsley. Feeling rather awkward sitting between Hermione and Snape, Harry retrieved the photograph from the table and stood the leave as well. At the door, Snape approached him from behind and grasped his elbow, steering him up the basement stairs. Harry tired to struggle out of his grip, but Snape just held on tighter. Once he had shoved Harry into the study, Snape finally released him.

"What did you do that for!" Harry demanded as he spun around.

Snape ignored the question.

"I'm only going to say this once, so stop talking and listen. Dumbledore believes this information too disturbing for his golden boy, but it's time you realized we're at war."

Snape paused to make sure Harry was listening before continuing.

"The Dark Lord has discovered a potion that will allow him to weaken the blood magic currently protecting your relative's house. The potion, in combination with the blood he took from you at the cemetery, will allow him to penetrate the protections almost completely _if_ he can uncover the correct mixture."

Harry was shocked by this information and could only splutter in response.

"But he can't…that's impossible…Dumbledore said…"

"Silence, Potter," Snape snapped. "We can't move you now because he'll know he has a spy in his midst and I'm the best the Order has."

Harry knew Snape was not trying to impress him; he was just stating facts.

"What am I supposed to do," Harry asked uneasily.

"Nothing," Snape responded to Harry's surprise. "Do not leave your house under any circumstances, no matter what scenarios your idiotic mind comes up with. I am going to give you an emergency portkey to Hogwarts that you are _only _to use in case of an attack. _Do you understand?_"

Harry was trying to process all the information, but did not know how to quail his misgivings.

"What about the Dursleys," Harry asked.

"Do you understand what I just said," Snape repeated unwavering.

"Yes, _sir_," Harry stated curtly, "But –"

"The muggles do not matter," Snape informed him firmly, as he thrust a small bracelet at Harry. "It has a Notice-Me-Not charm so it is nearly invisible to everyone else's eyes. To activate it, simply tap the band with you wand three times and tell it 'activate' in a clear voice."

His task complete, Snape turned to leave, but Harry burst out, "Why are you doing this?"

Harry did not understand why Snape would go out of his way to help Harry, especially when Dumbledore seemed untroubled by the same situation.

Snape turned and looked at him strangely for a moment before saying, "If you're our only hope, we can't afford to lose you."

With that, the man swept from the room, and Harry could his is footsteps as he rushed down the hall. Harry dashed into the hall, but just as he turned to look for his professor he heard the click of the front door closing. Disturbed by what Snape disclosed to him, Harry walked upstairs into his room. Lying on his bed, he examined the bracelet now on his left wrist; it consisted of two black cords twisted simply around each other and secured with a silver clasp. Turning on his back, Harry tried to process the information Snape had revealed.

Apparently, Voldemort knew of an essentially infallible way to attack Harry; and, Snape was at least aware of the prophecy, even if he did not know the exact wording. The first bit of information was not really that surprising to Harry once he thought about it. Everyone knew Voldemort was intelligent, insane yes, but not stupid. However, on top of this it unfortunately seemed that Snape might be the only person who was willing to share the slightest amount of information with him concerning the man who was trying to kill him. Additionally, if Snape knew about the prophecy, that probably meant that Voldemort had figured out what it meant.

"Bloody brilliant," Harry whispered to himself. "Let's give the madman another reason to kill me."

Harry pondered over these revelations for several more minutes, before he felt the pull of sleep. However, before he let himself fall asleep Harry remembered the promise he had made to prepare himself. Pulling himself up out of bed, Harry decided to try and remember as many of the spells off his list as possible. Not seeing any random pieces of wood lying about, but not daring to use his wand, Harry held an imaginary wand in his hand and began rattling off the curses and charms. He performed the motions several times for about an hour; after which, he was tired but pretty confident he had remembered most of them.

Finally falling back onto the bed, Harry resolved to do one more method of preparation before going to sleep – occulmency. Being exposed to wizards again today, Dumbledore especially, hardened his desire to master the art. Harry recalled that the writing technique was not very successfully, and he did not think the blank screen would work for him either; so Harry decided to attempt the third method where he was supposed to relate everything he thought of to a single physical object. Glancing around the room Harry chose to use his wand as the object. Lying in his bed, Harry let his thoughts wonder to the events of the day and endeavored to make them revolve around his wand.

"_Voldemort knows how to bypass the protections at my house…through magic…which comes from a wand…Voldemort's wand is connected to my wand…they're brother wands…the wands don't work properly against each other…but they can be forced to fight against each other…which causes the Priori Incantatem spell to occur…the spell makes a wand reveal the spells it has cast in reverse"_

Suddenly, Harry felt that he had discovered something important. He knew that he was just recalling the information Dumbledore shared with him after the Triwizard Tournament, but he felt there was something significant he was not grasping. Harry remembered that Dumbledore had seemed surprised in his own way about what had happened, but he just could not for the life of him figure out why that memory struck him so.

Harry pondered over the feeling for several more minutes, but before long he drifted asleep and his memories faded into dreams.


	6. Flame of Hope

Chapter 6: Flame of Hope

Disclaimer: Any and everything you recognize belongs to Rowling...

* * *

_Wednesday, July 10, 1996_

Harry awoke the next morning feeling well rested; surprisingly, he had slept through the night without any interruptions. However, Harry vaguely remembered a dream where he was in the cemetery again beneath a golden cage; however, it was not Voldemort on the other end of his wand but Dumbledore.

"Trelawney would probably have a heart attack from it," he muttered, thinking of his batty Divination teacher. "You are doomed, my poor child," he said to himself, mimicking her scratchy voice. But the details of the dream slipped from his mind before he had time to really think about it.

As he looked around the room, Harry did not recognize where he was for a moment, but soon the events from yesterday came rushing back. The attack…Hermione's parents…Sirius' will…Snape's revelation…Harry shoved the thoughts away and focused on getting ready for the day. Grabbing his rucksack, Harry headed to the bathroom at the end of the hall and went through his morning routine. After his shower, Harry brushed his teeth and throw on the clothes he had packed the day before. Just as he was pulling on his socks a knock came at the door.

"It's unlocked," Harry answered.

"Hey, Harry," Hermione said as she pocked her head in the door. "Mrs. Weasley sent me to tell you breakfast is ready."

"Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked in confusion. "What is she doing here?"

"All of the Weasley got here about half an hour ago," Hermione told him, as she walked into the room. " Mrs. Weasley thinks we're being starved because she practically brought her whole pantry."

Harry chuckled at the amused look on Hermione's face and imaged that the mothering woman had done just that. Even now he could smell the scent of bacon wafting up the stairs.

"Well, let's go get some before Ron eats it all," Harry announced as he headed towards the door.

"Harry?" Hermione inquired, before Harry made it into the hall. "Could you not mention what happened yesterday? I mean, if they ask it's alright, but…I don't want everyone making a big fuss and worrying my parents."

"Sure, I won't say anything about it," Harry assured her.

Hermione smiled at him gratefully, and the two headed downstairs. As they were leaving, Harry noticed that she was wearing the same outfit she had worn yesterday. Harry knew it would not be safe for the Granger family to live there anymore, but wondered if they would be able to go back and retrieve their personal belongings any time soon. In the kitchen, they were greeting with the sight of practically the entire Weasley family eating at the now extended breakfast table. Harry smiled when he saw that the twins had managed to pour jam down Ron's front and were attempting to convince to let them remove it with their wands.

"Come on, Ronniekins, it's only a bit of jam," George said.

"It'll only take swish of the good ol' stick to make it disappear," Fred finished.

"Get that thing away from me," Ron shouted, gesturing at their wands. "You'll just make it worse!"

The twins grinned wickedly in unison and with a might flourish placed a small jar on the table. Obviously worrying that they were about to prank him, Ron jumped from his chair and made a mad dash towards the hallway, but the twins were faster.

"_Fluidium Leviosa_!" the twins cried point their wands at the simple container.

A pure white blob rose from the jar and hovered in the air for a moment, until the twins swiftly directed it to hover over their younger brother's head. Almost immediately the blob began to gently rain drops of goo on his head. Surprised by the wetness he suddenly felt in his hair, Ron stopped running and looked up just as the substance began to drip even more heavily. Ron did an about face and dove under the kitchen table, almost unseating Ginny in the process, in an attempt to escape his brothers' mysterious slime. The twins patiently guided the blob to follow Ron, although it stayed above the table. Harry could see Mr. Weasley looking forlornly at his breakfast, as the substance dropped bits of goop into the food, but when he looked to see where it landed the spots had already vanished.

Finally, Ron peeked out from under the table and the twins aimed the rest of the goo to land straight on his head. Ron jumped out from beneath the table and began heatedly yelling and gesturing at the twins, causing the mess, which was now flowing down from his head to the rest of his body, to fly in every direction. His two brothers stood solemnly listening to his rant, as they stood behind the protection of two umbrellas which they had conjured ahead of time. Suddenly, Ron froze mid rant and gasped at his hands. Instead of their normal pale color, his hands were now becoming a decidedly green hue with vibrant orange spots where his freckles used to be.

By now, all of the remaining occupants of the house were in the kitchen having heard the uproar, and everyone burst into laughter upon seeing the expression on Ron's face as he stared at his hands in horror. Fortunately for their ears, Fred and George butted in before Ron could resume his shouting.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," George began.

"We present our newest creation…" continued Fred.

"Vibrygoo!"

"With this substance,–"

"Which is completely harmless unless in contact with the skin, –"

"You can turn your friends and enemies into vibrant hues of bizarre colors."

"In the case of our dear brother, here –"

"Slytherin green with Weasley orange highlights"

"A truly horrid combination, if I do say so myself."

"And you most certainly do, brother mine."

Everyone, who as within a few feet of Ron during his tantrum, was now fretfully examining his or her body for any signs of abnormal colorations. Luckily for Remus, the Grangers, and Mr. Weasley, they had not entered the room until just after Ron ended his tirade. Hermione's parents were staring at the scene half in amazement and half in fear, especially when they realized that Hermione had been hit with the strange stuff. Beside Hermione, Harry and Ginny found colorful spots and stripes on various body parts. To their consternation Remus was laughing wholeheartedly at their appearances, while Mr. Weasley was attempting to appear disapproving but was failing miserably as he laughed himself.

"It's not – not permanent, is it?" Mrs. Granger asked warily eying a bit on Hermione's cheek.

"Of course it isn't, Madame…"

"As far as we can tell, it only lasts for a week…"

"Most of the time."

The occupants of the room glared at them and George quickly continued the spiel, seeing that their prank was beginning to wear thin.

"Now, now, don't worry…"

"We have a reversal cream…"

"That will return your skin to your original and lackluster coloration."

"It's a magical mess remover especially for the skin and safe on the face:"

"Invisibalm!"

"And, for today only, we're selling it on discount "

"Just seven sickles a jar!"

"That's three sickles off!"

However, seeing the murderous expression their siblings' faces were swiftly acquiring, the twins adjusted their pitch,

"But since you were our test group –"

"It's free!"

The twins quickly tossed two jars onto the table and sprinted from the room before anyone could blink. Everyone erupted into laughter again, watching the two apparently fleeing for their lives.

"I hope they realize this means war," Ginny said from her chair across the table.

The Weasley siblings grinned at each other, obviously looking forward to pranking their brothers in revenge.

"Count me in," Hermione called out rubbing at a spot in her hand. "They're going to regret messing with me."

Ron turned his head in surprise and started at her with his mouth open.

"What, don't think I can prank anyone? You better watch yourself, or you'll be next on my blacklist this summer."

Sadly for Ron, he did seem to pick up on her teasing tone. He promptly closed his mouth, snatched one of the reversal cream jars, and headed out the kitchen. The other five grabbed the leftover jar and followed him up the stairs.

"What, don't think you could handle Hermione, Ron?" Ginny teased Ron as they reached the bathroom.

"You haven't seen her in action," Ron replied shaking his head seriously.

This sent everyone into laughter again, as they knew there was truth in the statement. In the bathroom, everyone crowded around the mirror to get a better look at the disaster of colors they displayed. Ginny was covered in bright yellow splotches and Hermione had royal blue smudges on her face. Harry was sporting bright bands of red coloring on his neck and arms. Getting a good look at everyone, especially Ron who was practically covered from head to toe, they had to admit it was pretty odd looking.

"Are you going to help us get back at twins this summer, Harry?" Ginny asked him, comparing her yellow marks with his red ones.

"If I can, but I doubt I'll be around here long enough to really help."

"I'm sure Dumbledore won't make you stay with the Dursleys too much longer. He usually let's you leave after a month or so."

This was when Harry realized that his treatment at the Dursleys had not been revealed the Weasleys, or at least not to their children. Harry wondered why Dumbledore had not told them; he almost wished Dumbledore had as they might have demanded that Harry come and stay with them, or at least rescue him, but he was still grateful that at least part of his life remained private.

"Yeah, maybe," Harry responded to Ginny's suggestion.

Thankfully, the Invisibalm was effective; although, one had to scrub at the spots rather vigorously before it took effect. As Ron was covered most everywhere, they left him to it and headed back to kitchen. They found everyone already tucking back into breakfast and quickly grabbed chairs of their own. Harry was starving by now and happily scarfed a couple of plates filled with eggs, toast, and bacon. Mrs. Weasley emerged from the hallway, where she had presumably been scolding the twins for their outlandish behavior, and began forcing more helpings onto everyone, especially Harry and the Grangers.

About fifteen minutes later Ron returned with his arms and face scrubbed pink but not a bit of green showing. He carefully chose the farthest seat away from the twins. Hermione, on the other hand, moved closer to them and began questioning them on the spell they had used to levitate the Vibrygoo.

"Now, now, Hermione, we have to keep our trade secrets – "

"To ourselves or –"

"Just anyone could do it –"

"And then we wouldn't have a business."

"Wait," Hermione interrupted their confusing banter. "Are you telling me that you actually invented that spell?"

Seeing the smug looks they shot her, Hermione's mouth fell open in disbelief, similarly to Ron's expression of shock earlier.

"But you only got six owls…combined!" she insisted.

"Not everything is learned in school, my dear," George informed her.

Hermione could not think of a response to that and simply stared at him. Seeming to realize that Hermione needed a distraction, Ginny grabbed her attention although it took a moment for Hermione to follow the conversation fully.

"Mum and I brought some clothes and toiletries for you and your parents until we can go pick up your things," Ginny repeated for the second time.

"Oh, thanks. I was wondering what we were going to do about that," Hermione replied rather absentmindedly.

Ginny shook her head and just continued eating her eggs.

The rest of the meal finished pleasantly enough, especially with Mrs. Weasley constantly hovering over the twins to make sure they did not have any other surprises up their sleeves. Near the end, Bill walked into the kitchen looking weary and smelling strongly of smoke. Mrs. Weasley stopped cleaning up the dishes as she saw her eldest son and quickly ushered him into a vacant seat.

"Where have you been, Bill?" she questioned as she pushed a cup of strong black coffee into his hands.

Bill took a strong pull from the coffee before he answered and slowly looked around the room, pausing as he reached each of the Grangers. The family noticed this and became anxious as they waited for his news.

"You lot probably don't know but Kingsley and I were sent to the Granger's house yesterday when we learned of the attack," Bill said as he swirled his mug gently.

Harry was glad that Bill did not mention at him as he talked. Hermione knew that he was the one who informed the Order of the attack, and he was sure Bill was informed, but Harry did not want _everyone_ to know.

"When we arrived the Death Eaters were there, but the Grangers had thankfully already escaped," Bill said, nodding at the family members in question. "We knew were outnumbered easily outnumbered so we didn't attack right away since Dumbledore was sending reinforcements right behind us. Unfortunately, while we were hiding, the Death Eaters realized that the Grangers were gone. "

Hermione seemed to realize where Bill was going and was slowly shaking her head in disbelief.

"They used _Confringo_ to destroy the house. What wasn't blasted apart in the initial attack, burned down shortly after. We tried to stop them, but I'm afraid we weren't able to save anything."

The Grangers looked to be slightly in shock, but no one could blame them. Mr. Granger seemed the least surprised, however.

"Well, I can't say this is completely unexpected," he finally said. "Mr. Dumbledore told us that these people were brutal. They wanted to attack, so they decided to try and hurt us another way."

Suddenly, Hermione seemed to come to herself.

"Crookshanks! Did you see him? I'm not sure if he was in the house when they attacked!" she asked, looking desperately at Bill.

"Kingsley and I tried to put out the flames, but it was useless. We're not sure what spell they used yet, but we're pretty sure it didn't produce a natural flame. The fire burnt until there was nothing left. If your cat was trapped inside the house I don't think he could have survived," Bill told her sadly.

Hermione burst into tears and her mother wrapped her in her arms. Everyone tried to assure her that Crookshanks was a smart cat and he would have escaped if he was even in the house. Hermione tried to let their words comfort her, but she could stop crying for several minutes.

"What's everyone all weepy about?" Charlie said in confusion, walking into the kitchen.

Harry stared in surprise as none other than Crookshanks pranced before Charlie. The cat stared right back at him for a few moments, before turning its attention to Hermione.

"Er…Hermione?" Ron said, a smile spreading quickly across his face.

"What?" Hermione answered red eyed, lifting her face from her arms.

Ron pointed to her feet. Hermione did not seem to comprehend for a few seconds and then she fell out of the chair to her knees.

"Crookshanks!" she exclaimed, scooping the act into her arms.

Fresh tears of happiness streamed into the cat's fur as Hermione hugged him tightly.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny left the Granger to celebrate the small victory, and went upstairs to Harry's room. Charlie said something about looking for Dumbledore and left as twins said they were headed to the library to see if the Blacks had any books they might be able to use. Harry and Ron looked at each other apprehensively when they thought of the damage those two might do with some of the knowledge that was probably hidden in those book. It seemed strange seeing each other so soon into the holidays, especially under the circumstances; no one knew what to say. Finally, Ginny started the conversation.

"I can't imagine losing everything like that," Ginny spoke quietly.

"Yeah, I know," Ron said, shaking his head.

Harry just sat on his trying to imagine the duress Hermione and her family must be feeling. In the back of his mind, Harry could not help the feeling that he should have been able to prevent it all somehow. If he had just woken up sooner maybe the Order could have gotten their faster and captured the Death Eaters.

"They're so lucky they weren't home when the Death Eaters attack. Hermione's the only one who could have defended them…" Ginny shuddered as she spoke.

Harry sighed and wondered if he should tell them what had actually happened, since they obviously did not know. Remembering that Hermione said it was okay to tell them if they asked, he figured he might as well seeing as they would probably find out anyway.

"They were home when the Death Eaters got to their house, actually," Harry said, resting his head on the bridge of his nose.

"What? But mum said nothing happened, and Bill just told us no one was home."

"Hermione and her family left by portkey just as Wormtail, Lucius, and five other Death Eaters apparated to her house."

"How do you know which Death Eaters –" Ron started to ask.

"Hush, Ron, let him explain," Ginny interrupted Ron, obviously realizing that Harry knew what had actually happened.

So, Harry explained how he saw the Death Eater meeting through Voldemort's eyes and how that led to the Grangers getting rescued and transported to Grimmauld Place. Neither Ron nor Ginny had any idea who the invisible man could have been, but Ron suggested that he might be a vigilante.

"Why not?" Ron asked, as Ginny scoffed at him. "Sure, he hasn't killed any of You-Know-Who's people yet, but he's stopped one attack. Why else would he be hiding out at Harry's house?"

Harry though his friend might have a point, but did not see how someone could stay undetected that long.

"I don't know Ron," Harry ventured. "Remus and Dumbledore keep insisting that there's loads of protection around my relative's house, so I don't know how he could actually stay hidden."

"Well, it would've been cool…we could use some help," Ron admitted, seeming deflated.

"Has anyone told you lot about anything that's going on in the war?" Harry asked, hoping that Ron's last statement meant he knew something, even though it did not sound very promising.

Ginny and Ron looked at each other, but Ginny spoke.

"Well, we don't really know much, nothing specific at leat. No one's been telling us anything but Fred and George have been improving their extendable ears so we know more than we're supposed to."

"Yeah," Ron added. "The ears can almost hear things from behind closed doors now, so even mum impenetrable charms don't affect us."

"What have you heard," Harry asked anxiously.

"Well, to be frank, we don't think it's going too well," Ginny admitted, looking grim. "Ever since we went to the Department of Mysteries Voldemort's become bold."

Ron shuddered hearing the name, but managed to restrain his response to just that.

"As far as we can tell," Ron continued, "the attack on Azkaban is the only one that the Ministry has publicly announced as You-Know-Who's work, but there have been killings and disappearances throughout Eastern Europe that have no other explanations."

"Is the Order doing anything to stop them?" Harry asked in frustration.

"Well, they're trying," Ron explained, "but so far they can't find any sort of pattern in the attacks. Dad thinks they're just terror attacks to scare the public like last time."

"There must be some reasoning behind them…I can't imagine that he would waste any element of surprise he still has," Harry wondered out loud.

"That's what I thought too," Ginny offered. "With Fudge trying to conceal his return, the imbecile is giving Voldemort the perfect opportunity to get away with almost anything. But…we think there may be one explanation…"

Ginny trailed off and glanced at Ron, who shook his head slightly giving her a glare.

"What?" Harry demanded. "If there's something going on I have the right to know. He is trying to kill me, after all."

Ron sighed and offered an explanation, "Well, the only thing we can image is that he's trying to draw you out. They haven't been reporting it in the Daily Prophet, but most of the people he attacks are muggles…"

"What does that have to do with me? I'd rather him not attack anyone, but it's not a secret that my relatives are muggle or that I'm not fond of them."

"Well, it's just…" Ginny picked up where Ron left off. "He's targeting muggles who are related to students in our year. I heard Dad saying they killed Seamus' grandparents about two weeks ago. We think he's testing your limits…seeing how close he has to get before you react."

"And after yesterday…" Ron put in, looking at the ground and shaking his head.

Harry ran his hands through his hair, wondering how in the world he was supposed to know what to do about this.

"What does he want from me!" Harry groaned.

Ron looked at Harry with uncertainty. "Well, he wants to kill you of course."

"I know that!" Harry snapped at Ron.

Ron looked taken aback, and slouched against the wall in annoyance. Ginny looked at her brother and rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"We understand, Harry, it's alright."

"That's just it, you don't!" Harry retorted, standing up.

"Then help us understand." Ginny said with just as much anger in her voice.

Harry fell back down onto the bed and put his head into his hands.

"It's just…I can't…" Harry whispered to the floor.

"We're trying to help you, Harry," Ginny said softly as she sat beside him. "Let us."

"Yeah mate, it isn't like the whole world's depending on you," Ron added walking up beside him.

Harry groaned into his hands at Ron's choice of words. If only they knew…

"Harry we're all here to help you, no matter what…all you have to do is ask." Ginny said, putting her arm around his shoulders.

Harry did not respond and wondered if they would be saying the same thing if they knew he was supposedly destined to try and kill Voldemort. On account of the prophecy, it was now guaranteed that Voldemort would not stop trying to kill him until one of them was dead.

Seeming to think they had exhausted the topic, Ginny stood and began pacing the room.

"You know what we need to do?" she asked, looking at the ceiling in thought.

"What?" Harry asked lifting his head, grateful for the subject changed.

"We need to find of a way to help Hermione and her family."

"How?" Ron asked. "What can we do?"

"Well, Hermione once told me about the library they had in their home. Hermione loves books, and I bet she gets it from her parents. We could try to rebuild their library. Figure out what their favorite ones were and the ones they read all the time…"

"But how are we going to pay for all of that? We can't expect Harry to pay for everything…" Ron mumbled as he finished.

"We can start a charity program – for the victims of Voldemort's attack," Ginny suggested becoming more excited by the idea every minute.

Looking at Ron, Harry saw that he was wearing a decidedly unpleasant face.

"Just because you don't want to accept help from people who care, doesn't mean others don't need it." Ginny scolded her brother, who had the sense to look ashamed.

"But wouldn't Fudge shoot that down?" Harry questioned. "Since he's still trying to convince the public Voldemort's not back."

Ginny paused in her pacing and scowled as she tried to think of a way around Fudge. It was Ron who came up with the idea.

"Well, we have to frame the idea right. Maybe if we started small …just the Granger Library to begin with…but if it becomes popular, we could open it up for everyone and he wouldn't be able to stop it without hurting his political popularity."

Ginny smiled at her brother in delight and said, "And I know just the thing that would clinch it."

"What?" Harry asked, getting caught up in the idea himself.

"You!" Ginny responded happily. "If you endorse it there's no way he could suppress it."

Harry suddenly liked the idea a lot less. He was in the public eye enough as it already was, he did not need intentional exposure.

"I don't know, Ginny. Everyone out there seems to think I belong in St. Mungo's. I don't think anyone would support me."

"Sure they would," Ron added. "Once they realized You-Know-Who's back you'll have a regular fan club again."

"Say his name already," Harry responded in annoyance. "It's Voldemort!"

Ron looked at Harry crossly and just folded his arms in response. Another disagreement was avoided as a knock came from the door. Hermione poked her head in the door.

"Hey," she said softly in greeting.

Harry patted the bed beside them and Hermione came into the room. They could tell from her red eyes that she had only just stopped crying.

"I suppose you two are wondering about the attack," Hermione said to Ron and Ginny, looking as though she dreaded the topic.

"I actually already told them about it," Harry stated quietly.

The look of relief on her face was obvious. "Thanks, I really didn't want to explain it again."

"What were you arguing about?" Hermione asked to change the subject.

"Well," began Ginny, obviously regaining her fervor. "We were thinking about starting a charity program."

"A charity program?" Hermione asked, looking thoughtful. "What do you mean exactly?"

"The goal would be to establish a foundation for a larger program that could help support any victims of Voldemort's attacks," Ginny explained.

"But what about Fudge's stance on Voldemort right now. He can't risk anyone contradicting his statement."

"That's why we would need to start small and personal," Ron offered, lacking his usual tactlessness.

"Oh," Hermione responded, her sadness showing clearly, as she realized what they meant.

"We thought a good place to begin might be by rebuilding your library," Harry added.

A small watery smile appeared on Hermione's face as she looked at her hands. She glanced up, and seeing the determined looks in their faces, gained a spark back of her old personality.

"Thanks," she said looking at each of them. "You don't know how much this will mean to my family."

"Oh, there so much to do!" Ginny exclaimed happily.

Her enthusiasm seemed to spread to everyone in the room and soon they were compiling a list of everything they would need to do.

"We'll obviously some advertisements of sorts to get this thing rolling," Hermione began.

"We can use the twins' shop," Ginny suggested.

"Wait," Harry declared pausing their momentum. "They have a shop…where?"

"It's in Diagon Alley," Ron enthused. "You have to see it – it's bloody awesome."

"Language, Ronald," Hermione scolded.

"They get plenty of traffic," Ginny said getting them back on topic. "And many of their customers are Hogwarts students."

"We can put up signs all over Diagon Alley explaining our mission," Hermione added.

"In muggle charities," Harry included, "They usually have sponsors who donate materials and money."

"Oh, that's a great idea, Harry," Hermione agreed, adding it to her list, "Especially, if any of the store owners have been hurt somehow by Voldemort."

They continued in this vein for another hour or so, throwing around ideas. Ginny said she would ask her father if any of the departments in the Ministry would be willing to sponsor them, and Ron suggested that they ask Bill and Charlie if their jobs would donate anything. As the time for lunch rolled around, two simultaneous cracks sounded in the room followed by the appearance of Fred and George.

"Why do you still do that!" Ron asked angrily, messaging his toes where Fred had landed on them. "You've had your licenses for over a year."

"We know dear brother –" George said.

"We just like keeping you on your toes!" Fred finished, waggling his eyebrows.

Ron scowled angrily at his brother, but before they could start an argument Ginny rounded on them.

"What do you want, anyway?"

"Oh nothing."

"Just thought we'd pop in and see what you lot were up to."

"Well, we have a proposition for the two of you." Ginny declared.

"You do –"

"Do you," the twins stated, looking slightly nervous.

"Indeed," Ginny said, grinning slightly. "We agree to not prank in response to your highly uncalled for attack this morning, if you promise to do us a favor in return."

"Well, that depends on the favor, of course," George asserted.

"Oh no," Hermione insisted, joining the conversation as she caught on to Ginny's idea. "You either agree or we'll be forced to take other measures."

Fred and George looked at each, obviously pondering whether to make a run for it or to just give in.

"We'll need to discuss this amongst ourselves," Fred finally said.

Ginny nodded and the two stepped into the corner of the room, where they began whispering at each other.

"What are you two up to," Harry asked, know that Ron was wondering the same.

"We're just getting them to agree to let use their shop as a base of operation for the charity program," Hermione informed the clueless boys.

"But why waste our prank on this?" Ron asked incredulously. "They would agree without doing all of this."

"Oh we know," Ginny allowed. "But making them sweat is worth it. We would never be able to fool those two with a physical prank – they're the masters. But they do know that the rest of us could probably pull together a pretty good one, so they're hoping they can get off easy."

"Well, Charlie won't be happy we didn't include him, but I'm sure he'll think it was worth it," Ron finally granted.

The group then decided to add pressure to the twins' decision. Ginny stared intently at the two, Hermione tapped her foot impatiently, Harry drummed his fingers on the wall, and Ron began whistling off-key, which put the others on edge just as much as the twins. Finally Fred and George approached the group.

"No need to be impatient," Fred said, his brow glistening slightly.

"Have you made your decision," Ginny inquired imperiously.

"Yes, we have," George responded looking nervously between them.

"We decided to…take you up on your offer," Fred disclosed, suddenly not sounding at all sure of their choice.

"In that case," Ginny began,

"We have decided that the two of you," Hermione continued, giving them a taste of their own medicine.

"– And your shop –" Ron added.

"Will be the center of… " Harry said, drawing their dread out.

"…our charity program," Ginny finished.

The twins did not say anything, obviously expecting there to be a catch of some sort.

"Wait, that's it?" Fred confirmed, obviously relieved.

"What does that mean, exactly," George asked, still cautious.

"It means we get to use your shop how and when we please," Ginny said, obviously making their roles sound much more troublesome than they actually were.

"But it's for a charity program," George questioned, still confused.

"Yep," Ginny responded, suddenly cheerful.

She pulled out the list describing the details of their plans and soon Fred and George were adding ideas on their own.

"You know, all you had to do was ask," Fred said as they read the description.

"We know," Ginny informed him. "It's just fun watching you squirm."

Fred and George huffed in unison recognizing they had been had, without even realizing it, which to the masterminds of pranks was the epitome of shamefulness. Trying to act unbothered, the twins returned to the plans.

"Everything looks fine but you need a catchier name…the Granger Library is just too dull."

"No offense," George added, glancing at Hermione.

"You need something that rolls off the tongue and catches peoples' eyes."

"Like Hermione's Haven…"

"Or Granger's Gifts"

Hermione made a face as she heard each of their suggestions and finally Ginny interrupted.

"Those sound like the names of your sweets, not a charitable organization," she admonished.

The twins gave her a look says "But, of course," as Hermione suggested, "What about Phoenix's Flame?"

"Well, it doesn't rhyme…"

"A phoenix is inherently good," Hermione explained ignoring the twins' complaints, "and the flame suggests an opportunity for a new start."

Harry nodded and said, "It also refers to the original reason we decided to form the organization."

"And, we don't have to change the name if the program expands beyond our first attempts," Ron put in.

Ginny took the quill and wrote in large letters across the top of the page:

_PHOENIX'S FLAME_

Once Ginny finished, Hermione grasped the quill and added:

_A Blaze of Hope in a World of Darkness_

"Now," Hermione said laughing lightly, "we just have to make this a reality."

Finally satisfied with their work, Ginny rolled up the parchment and insisted that it was time for a bit of lunch.

"All this brain work has got my stomach grumbling," Ron informed them rushing out the door.

"It's got nothing to do with work, Ron," Ginny told him.

"Well, like I always say –" Ron started.

"You're a growing boy!" Everyone else finished for him.

"I don't say it that much," Ron muttered to himself as they laughed.

Downstairs in the kitchen, they found Mrs. Weasley making some sandwiches for everyone while Tonks attempted to help. Harry distinctly remembered the last time he saw Tonks trying to aide someone in the kitchen and hoped this did not turn into a similar disaster of broken plates and wasted food. Mrs. Weasley was doing her best to give Tonks the simplest, least complicated tasks but it did not seem to help much.

Finally, Ginny took pity on her mom and told Tonks that they had some questions about Auror training they hoped she would answer. Tonks seemed to realize what was going on but gamely sat at the table anyway.

"Well, what do you four what do know about the noble profession of an Auror?" Tonks questioned happily.

Harry looked around the table and saw the Fred and George had ditched them at some point, so it was just him, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione now. Seeing that no one looked like they knew what to ask, Harry decided to take advantage of the situation.

"Well, I was actually thinking about becoming an Auror once I finish school," Harry told her.

Tonks looked Harry up and down for a moment before responding. "Well, you'll probably want to work out some before you start then. Auror training is pretty brutal…we lose about half the class before the end of the first year."

"What's the training like," Ron asked, his interest peaked.

"I'm not really supposed to tell you," Tonks said leaning in slightly and looking around, "but, if you've ever heard of muggle boot camp I'd say that's a pretty good comparison."

Hermione and Harry nodded their heads in understanding, but Ginny and Ron still looked confused.

"Look at it like this," Tonks continued. "Right now, you just have school and maybe quidditch practice to worry about. Well, training is like that but ten times worse; you're studying, practicing, eating, or sleeping. And most of us thought we didn't get enough sleep or food."

Ron made a face at that looked like he was changing his mind about wanting to become an Auror.

"What kind of marks do you need to get in school to get accepted into the training program," Hermione asked.

"Well, you have to do well in all your core classes and having strong electives is helpful. They especially like Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy."

"Well, I can see why they would prefer Arithmancy as it practices logic," Hermione stated, "but why Magical Creatures."

"Usually in your last year or two, you'll learn about and maybe deal with creatures that you might be called in for as an auror…you know dragons, werewolves, and the such."

Harry, Hermione, and Ron looked at each other and smiled slightly. Obviously, Tonks did not know Hagrid or the situations they got themselves into. Ginny noticed the exchange and grumbled, obviously put off that she was not included in their adventures.

"The only drawback about being an Auror, besides almost getting killed half the time," Tonks joked, "is that the department is completely under the control of the ministry. Luckily, we've got some leeway right now, as Kingsley was just promoted to the Head of Department."

"That's good," Hermione agreed. "If Fudge found out that some of you are working for Dumbledore he'd go berserk."

"What's this?" Mrs. Weasley said, interrupting their conversation as she carried in a plate of sandwiches with a pitcher of drink following behind her, "You should not be talking of such things, not now. Here, have some food. Why don't you help me clean up the dishes, Tonks?"

Tonks rolled her eyes at Mrs. Weasley's abrupt attitude but followed the woman to the sink. Ron and Ginny looked at each other and sighed in annoyance.

"Mum's been doing that since we came home," Ron told Harry and Hermione heavily.

"She thinks as long as we don't know anything then we can't go off and do something rash again," Ginny added, glaring in the direction her mother left.

"Another problem my decision caused," Harry thought to himself.

Everyone ate their fill of the sandwiches before heading out of the kitchen. It seemed they, Mrs. Weasley, and Tonks were the only left in Grimmauld Place, even Fred and George had apparently gone.

"They're probably at their shop," Ron said, "They spend most of their time there nowadays. Don't know why though as they've only come up with a few new things to sell."

Harry shrugged and the group headed into the library. Hermione gazed at the books with a mixture of longing and sadness on her face.

"I don't know if there's anything here worth reading, but I'm sure no one would mind if you borrowed a few," Harry told her.

Hermione looked at him gratefully and began browsing the selection. Thinking that there might be some titles about fighting, Harry began looking through the books also. Ron seemed put off by Harry's studious attitude and challenged Ginny to a game of chess. During their cleaning frenzy last summer, someone had found an old chess set that did not try to attack anyone, so now it was kept on the table in front of the fireplace. Hermione pulled out a very old, enormous tomb and sat on the couch to read it. Harry glanced at the cover but could not make out title.

Harry searched for a few more minutes, and found a small leather bound book simply titled _Protections_ by Musidoro Drakule. Harry recognized Drakule as the author from his book _Magick Moste Eville_. Hoping that these protections would be just as strong as the magic from the author's other book, Harry pulled it from the shelf. Sitting in the winged chair beside the couch, Harry opened the book to the table of contents.

_Contents_

_Introduction…vi – v_

_One_

_Protections of the Body…1_

_Two_

_Protections of the Mind…34_

_Three_

_Protections of the Spirit…65_

Harry turned the page and began to read the introduction.

_This manuscript is a companion piece to my_

_previous tome _Magick Moste Eville_, which_

_delved deeply into the subject of what _

_evils exist amongst the people__. After the _

_many years of research I completed in my_

_endeavors to discover that which was has_

_been feared since time began, I found that_

_it was necessary to uncover the practices _

_through which these evils are deterred. _

_Thus, this work divulges the means to ward _

_off said evils. Regretfully, as you, my reader, _

_has doubtlessly discerned, this script is_

_diminutive in comparison to my earlier_

_efforts. This is so owing to the lamentable_

_fact that the world encompasses more evils_

_than we, even as an elite class of individuals,_

_can in truth stave off._

_I deplorably foresee that in the near future_

_evil shall overcome the land and all that is_

_good shall be destroyed, unless some_

_unknown and unimagined force of the light_

_emerges. Nonetheless, at this moment in_

_time such a dream seems the unrequited_

_fancy of a lost soul. It is my hope that one of_

_the countless individuals that may browse_

_this manuscript comprehends its significance_

_and hoists the banner of the Phoenix for all_

_to see._

Harry stopped his reading as he heard Ron curse over the game of chess he was playing. Harry turned in his chair to see Hermione standing over the board watching Ron and Ginny play. Seeing Harry looking in their direction, she explained.

"Ron is about to lose his first game of chess to his little sister," she said grinning at Ron's obvious distress.

"Shut up, I'm trying to concentrate," Ron snapped in frustration, as he ran his hand through his hair.

Hermione chuckled, but remained quiet. Knowing he would want to see this, Harry put his book down, somewhat gratefully as it was decidedly depressing, and walked over to hear Ron mumbling about how this could not be happened, especially so quickly into the game.

"It's your move, brother," Ginny smirked, seeking to push his buttons.

"I know!" Ron almost shouted, snapping his head up to glare at her.

The moment that Ron was no longer analyzing the chess board, his remaining rook shifted a space over causing Ron's chances of winning to be completely lost. Harry's mouth dropped open in surprise and he looked at Hermione in surprise. She shook her head to indicate that she was not doing it and nodded at the chess pieces themselves. It appeared the Ron's pieces were conspiring to make him lose. Ron was so engrossed in glowering at Ginny and then being utterly flummoxed at the position of his rook, that he did not notice their exchange.

"But…the rook…" Ron blubbered gesturing at the offending piece.

"Well, you know I didn't do it," Ginny said, smiling arrogantly.

Ron looked to Harry, who replied, "Wasn't me, mate."

It took only a couple of moves more, before Ron was forced into checkmate. Poor Ron just sat there staring at the board, as though the world had ended. Finally, the others could not take it anymore and burst into laughter at the look of horror on Ron's face. Ron jumped up at their sudden outburst and began looking at them suspiciously.

"What's going on?" he demanded. "What did you do?"

"The pieces," Ginny gasped, still laughing. "Your pieces moved b-by themselves when you weren't l-looking."

"You mean I didn't lose," Ron said, happiness shining his face. "Yes!" he exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air.

"You needn't be so emotional over a game, Ron," Hermione reproached, shaking her head though she was still shaking with laughter.

"A game?" Ron stated incredulously. "Chess isn't just a game…it's – it's a strategic struggle of wills."

"If you say so," Harry laughed.

Ron folded his arms over his chest in consternation for a moment, but as this only increased the others' laughter he finally saw the amusement in it all and started laughing himself. As their mirth died down, Hermione suggested that they toss the pieces as they obviously were not much good for a real game of chess.

"No!" Ron shouted quickly.

"Why not?" Ginny asked in confusion. "We can't play with them."

"Are you kidding me?" Ron said, suddenly seeming very excited. "I haven't been able to beat Bill in a chess match since he taught me how to play. This is perfect!"

"But in the end you still haven't won," Hermione reminded.

"I know, I just want to see his face while he thinks he's losing," Ron admitted, staring wistfully into the distance.

"Yeah, you have to admit it is pretty funny," Harry said, chuckling a little.

Ron punched him on the arm playfully and made a face. Everyone settled down and sat in the various seats around the room. A few moments passed before anyone said anything.

"You know," Ginny finally inserted. "This place is basically as boring as I remembered."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Sirius used to complain about that all the time."

No one said anything, as they were on unfamiliar ground. Harry sighed and rubbed his neck before continuing.

"I don't know if you two heard yet," he said, nodding at Ron and Ginny, "but the hearing for Sirius' will is going to be next Wednesday."

"Oh," Ginny said quietly, as Ron stared at the ground.

"Are you going to be staying here until then," Ron asked not looking up from his shoes.

"No, I have to go back to Privet Drive today," Harry answered glumly.

"That's where you're safest, Harry" Hermione reminded him.

Harry shook his head but did not say anything. He was not about to start that conversation.

"Do you know what time you'll be leaving then?" Ginny asked.

"No," Harry replied. "I'm actually surprised no one has taken me back yet. Remus made it sound like I wouldn't be staying for this long."

"Maybe he got caught up with something," Ginny suggested, shrugging her shoulders.

"Do you know if you're going to be staying here now, Hermione?" Harry asked, trying to steer the topic away from him.

"Dumbledore told us we'd be staying with the Weasleys until he could work something out," Hermione told them. "I don't think they want us here for too long because of the Order meetings."

Harry nodded in understanding. "From what I can tell no one is going to tell us what's going on in this war. Don't you think it's kind of suspicious that this is the Order's headquarters and yet no one seems to be around while we're here? I know Dumbledore and some other members were here when I sent Dung with the message or they would not have responded so quickly."

The others nodded in agreement, but no one seemed to know what to say about it.

"We know what you mean, Harry," Ginny finally said, "Ron and I have been trying to get information out of our parents for the last week but they won't tell us anything."

"It's just that after last time you'd think he'd care," Harry complained.

"I think that's why Dumbledore doesn't want to tell us anything, so he can protect us."

"Fat lot of good that's done," Ron griped.

The girls looked at him in annoyance, but Harry nodded at the statement.

"Well it's true," Ron maintained. "If it wasn't for Harry figuring things out on his own, V-Voldemort would have returned years ago and both of you would be dead…I'd be the only one left!"

Harry smiled at his friend, as Hermione and Ginny remained silent realizing the truth of the assertion.

"Thanks," Harry said, clapping Ron on the shoulder. "You said his name."

"Well, I don't want to look like a ninny," Ron muttered good-naturally.

Harry stood and walked towards the door, after telling them he needed the loo. As Harry came back downstairs he saw Dumbledore in the kitchen talking with Mrs. Weasley. Harry paused hoping to catch a bit the conversation.

"I was hoping to plan a trip to Diagon Alley and possibly a couple of muggle clothing stores to buy the Grangers some suitable clothing," Molly was saying.

Dumbledore nodded his head and said, "Yes, I think that would be a splendid idea. I know some of our people have tomorrow morning off. Would that be too soon?"

"Oh no, that would work lovely," Mrs. Weasley said happily.

As she finished talking, Dumbledore seemed to sense Harry and turned around.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore addressed him, indicating that he should enter the room, "just the person I was looking for."

Harry walked in and took a seat beside the headmaster, wondering what else could have happened.

"Molly, if you could make me one of your wonderful cups of tea I would be most grateful," Dumbledore told Mrs. Weasley.

The matriarch heard the message behind his request and forced Tonks to go with her as well insisting she needed to learn how to make a decent cup.

"Harry, I know you must be wondering why I asked you in here, but I assure that nothing else has happened," Dumbledore began with the ever present twinkle in his eye.

Harry could swear that Dumbledore was taunting him by repeating his thoughts. Harry stayed silent and waited for the man to talk.

"You probably don't know, but as Grimmauld Place is untraceable, owls are not able to locate it either. Consequently, I took the privilege of retrieving Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, and your OWL results personally."

Dumbledore pulled out three thick envelopes addressed to each of them. Harry had not once thought about these results since he had taken the OWLs at the end of the school year. Now, he could feel all the forgotten trepidation building inside him.

"I did not open the letters, but I am sure they will all be pleasant surprises," Dumbledore continued. "Additionally, I had the pleasure of coming across a beautiful snowy white owl on my way into the building."

Harry looked at Dumbledore in surprise, as he realized that the headmaster must mean Hedwig.

"Is she alright, sir?" Harry asked anxiously.

"She's fine, my boy. I believe she has been flying in the area for several hours sensing that you were nearby but was of course unable to locate you. She is sleeping in your room upstairs for now."

Harry heaved a sigh of relief that she was okay. He had not really believed anything had happened to her, but he would not put it past one of Voldemort's minions to attack her.

"Now, Remus told me he would be here around three o'clock to take you home and it's just after two now," Dumbledore said glancing at his many-handed pocket watch.

"But sir, can't I wait until tomorrow – after the shopping trip?" Harry protested, revealing that he had been eavesdropping.

Dumbledore looked at Harry for a moment, before nodding slightly. "Very well, I don't believe one more day will hurt; please inform Remus when he arrives."

Harry nodded gladly, as Mrs. Weasley walked in with Dumbledore's cup of tea. Harry noticed that Tonks now sported a large brown stain down her front and was failing miserably to remove it with her wand. Mrs. Weasley took pity on her when Tonks caused the spot to sprout green flowers, and simply waved her own wand to vanish the stain. Tonks huffed and ungracefully fell into a chair at the table.

Realizing that he was no longer needed, Harry grabbed the three letters and headed back to the library. As he neared the door, Harry heard his friends talking and caught his name a couple of times. Harry stood outside the door and listened, somewhat upset that they were discussing him.

"Have you noticed that he seems distant at times," Harry heard Ginny say.

"He did just lose his godfather," Ron said in Harry's defense.

"He's blaming himself for that, you know," Hermione worried.

"Of course he is, he's Harry," Ron replied with a note of sarcasm.

"There's no need to be rude Ron," Ginny said angrily. "I think he's taking it really hard."

"I think he's doing better than when Cedric died, though," Ron said, no longer mocking.

"I don't know," Ginny replied. "I haven't told you, but I overheard mum and dad talking a few days back."

"About what?"Hermione questioned sounding concerned.

"They were saying that a group of Order members went over there a few days ago; there was something about his cousin too."

"That doesn't sound bad," Ron interjected. "They could have been doing anything."

"That's not all. I heard dad say that Madame Pomfrey has been over there twice already and mum sounded really worried."

Harry heard someone inhale sharply as he listened.

"You don't think Voldemort attacked?" Hermione asked in fear.

"They would have told us about that," Ginny differed, "Just like they told us about the attack on your house."

"It could be the muggles," Ron proposed. "We know they've never treated him well."

"But they would never send him back there. It's his aunt's blood that's protecting the house…if she abused him wouldn't the protection fail?" Hermione posed.

"That explains why Dumbledore's keeping me there," Harry thought. "My uncle is attacking me, not my aunt."

"I thought of that too," Ginny agreed. "There's only one other thing it could be."

"But Harry wouldn't" Hermione gasped.

"What?"Ron asked confusion evident in his voice.

"If he's depressed…" Ginny offered, sounding defeated.

"Wait," Ron interrupted, sounding upset. "You don't….you don't think Harry tried to _kill_ himself, do you?"

No one answered Ron's question.


	7. Blameworthy

Disclaimer: Ditto

A/N: The reviews have expressed concerns that Harry is too docile or unassuming or just plain wimpy; however, I promise that Harry won't stay weak forever. I'm a rather long-winded write, so the story may take some time to get there...but get there it will!

* * *

_Wednesday, July 10, 1996_

"That's enough," Harry thought angrily. He could not believe his friends thought he would do something so – _so stupid_. Did they not know him at all?

Harry barged into the room without a warning his hands balled into fists, shocking its inhabitants. Ginny and Hermione sat staring at him, their mouths open in silent oh's. Ron, however, was not quite so speechless.

"You didn't…you wouldn't…" Ron spluttered looking at his friend in agony.

"No," Harry said quietly but just as resolutely. "I did _not_ try to kill myself."

No one said anything for a couple of minutes as they stood staring at each other. Finally Hermione seemed to gather enough courage to speak.

"Harry, we didn't want to believe it, but –"

"You sounded pretty ready to believe it to me," Harry interrupted heatedly throwing the now crushed letters in his hands to the ground.

"It's just that I overheard my parents –"

"That's just it, _Ginny_, you didn't hear the full story and you jumped to the wrong conclusion!" Harry countered.

Ron was no longer worried and did not seem to mind Harry's anger once he knew that his best friend was not going to commit suicide. However, Hermione and Ginny still bore concerned faces.

"What did they mean then?" Ginny resumed. "Why did Madame Pomphrey need to go to your house?"

Harry growled in aggravation at her question. He had not intended to tell them of his psychotic uncle.

"Harry, what happened?" Hermione asked the fear still present in her voice.

Harry sat unceremoniously on the end of the couch and let his head fall into his hands.

"It wasn't my aunt who attacked me," Harry said faintly.

Ron's head snapped around to face Harry. "But who would…"

"My uncle…" Harry whispered dejectedly.

"Oh Harry," Hermione murmured gently. "I'm so –"

"Stop it!" Harry shouted as he stood up suddenly. "Don't! Don't pity me!"

"Harry!" Ginny cried in return, "We're not –"

"He's a muggle!" Harry continued, as if he could not hear her. "Just a bloody muggle. I know I should be able to stand up to him, but I can't!"

Harry grabbed the book he had been reading earlier and threw it against the wall.

"How the _hell_ am I supposed to save the bloody world, if I can't fight off a muggle!"

"No one expects –" Ron started.

"Yes they do!" Harry spat, staring directly at Rom. "I'm supposed to be the hero. I'm supposed to save the day. It's my _destiny._"

"Harry, no one's destiny is predetermined," Ginny soothed slowly walking towards him as though he were a cornered animal.

Harry shook his head desperately in response. "You don't know," he groaned through his hands.

"What don't we know?" Hermione asked walking to his other side.

"The prophecy…" he whispered.

"What prophecy?" Ron asked, watching Harry unmovingly.

Without looking up from the ground Harry repeated the prophecy word for word emotionlessly.

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies… _

No one said anything as they coped with what Harry had revealed.

"You – you don't actually believe that, do you?" Hermione finally asked, disbelief clear in her voice.

"Harry doesn't have to believe, Hermione. As long as Voldemort does…" Ginny said sounding crestfallen.

Hermione let out a small "oh" and looked crushed.

Harry sighed in defeat. It was true, even his friends already thought he was finished.

"Why are you lot already acting like we've already lost?" Ron asked, looking at his friends in distaste. "I don't see how this prophecy changes anything. Did you actually think Voldemort would just give up one day?"

Ron stared at Harry, apparently waiting for an answer.

"Of course not," Harry snapped, his anger remembered.

"Then why have you given up all of a sudden?"

"It kind of changes things when you learn you're the only person who can kill the greatest of all evils!" Harry shouted.

"I don't know if I would give him that much credit," Ginny mumbled from his side.

"Okay," Ron admitted. "We didn't know that you would have to cast the spell personally, but – "

"If this prophecy is even true," Hermione repeated.

"_But_ that doesn't mean the rest of us are going to up and disappear," Ron continued, ignoring her. "We've got your back mate."

Harry looked up from his hands and glared at Ron. They stared at each other in defiance until Harry cast his eyes away. He did not say anything as he thought of everything his friends had said. Ron had point, if Harry was willing to accept it; maybe he could survive. Harry glanced up to see his three friends staring at him anxiously.

"Alright, so maybe I overreacted a little," Harry confessed.

"You didn't," Hermione assured him. "You just tried to shoulder everything by yourself."

"Is there anything else we need to know about in that complicated life of yours?" Ron asked half serious.

"Well…not really, I guess," Harry muttered in response.

"_Harry_," Hermione chided. "We're just trying to help."

Harry shifted uncomfortably as they waited for him to respond. He was glad he had shared the prophecy with them, but everything else felt too personal. Everyone kept trying to work their way into his private life, and it was grating on Harry's nerves. First Dumbledore, then Remus, and now his friends; Harry was not sure how much of this prying he could stand.

"There's nothing else; we've got enough problems to deal with now."

"Well, the first thing we have to do is make sure you don't go back to that house today," Ginny said, switching the topic.

Harry nodded his head gratefully, but said "Tomorrow."

"No, you can't go back tomorrow either," confirmed Ginny, somewhat confused.

"No, no, Dumbledore said I didn't have to go back until tomorrow."

"He did, did he?" asked a new voice from the doorway.

Harry looked to see Remus leaning against the doorway, peering at them intently.

"How long have you been standing there," Harry inquired nervously.

"Long enough to say that I agree with you," admitted Remus.

Harry frowned slightly and said, "I thought you said we had to follow Dumbledore's rules."

"I did," Remus sighed, "but sometimes rules are meant to be broken…and I'd say this situation certainly qualifies."

Remus gave Harry a half grin, and he almost whooped with joy. With Remus, an adult who had some influence with Dumbledore, Harry felt they had a chance.

"But first, why did Professor Dumbledore agree to let you stay another day?" Remus queried.

Harry looked at Hermione and answered, "We're going to Diagon Alley tomorrow to do some shopping."

Hermione wore a bittersweet grin as she heard the news; Ginny on the other hand grew excited instantly.

"We'd better start making signs then," she exclaimed grabbing Hermione's hand. "Come on."

Ginny sprinted from the room with Hermione was close behind her.

"Hermione wait!" Harry called as he suddenly remembered the letters Dumbledore had given him.

"What is it?" Hermione asked pausing at the doorway.

"Our OWL results. Dumbledore came by and gave them to me."

Ron and Hermione both froze and stared at Harry in fear. Harry nervous but it was nothing compared to his friends apparently.

"You…you have our results," Ron uttered, barely over a whisper.

"But those aren't supposed to come for another week," Hermione squeaked.

Harry shrugged and responded in monotone, "It's Dumbledore."

Slowly Hermione shuffled towards him and held out her hand. Understanding that she wanted her letter, he searched on the ground until he found the three of them. Someone had trampled on them at some point, in addition to the damage he had done to them beforehand.

Harry handed the one with Hermione's name on it to her and offered Ron's to him. Ron stared at the crushed letter in awe for a moment before taking it. Harry looked at Hermione to see that the state of the letter had somewhat shaken her out of her shock.

"What did you do to them?" She asked flipping hers over.

"I was sort of holding them when I came in the room and then I think someone walked on them?"

"Oh, that's what those papers were…"

Remus glanced between the letters and Harry with amusement clearly on his face.

"One doesn't typically try to destroy OWL results until after you open them," he finally said.

Harry grimaced and gave a half shrug in explanation. Turning his attention back to his letter, Harry was hesitant to open it. What if he did not get enough OWLs to move on? Harry thought he had done well in a few of his exams but now he suddenly was not sure, and he was positive that he did terribly on a couple of them.

"Harry," Remus said, interrupting his despairing thoughts, "It's usually best to just get it over with."

Harry nodded his head slowly and at last opened the envelope.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_ The first attachment contains the result of your fifth year Ordinary Wizarding Level (OWL) examination. You must achieve at least 3 OWLs to proceed to the next level in your education at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. OWL worthy scores include Outstanding, Exceeds Expectations, and Acceptable. Failing scores consist of Poor, Dreadful, and Troll and thus receive no OWLs. The student will receive one owl for each passing score accomplished. The phrase "with honors" indicates that the student has achieved the highest OWL score in his or her year for that particular subject. The phrase "with distinguished honors" indicates that the student has achieved a record breaking OWL score for that subject._

_The second attachment is a form that is to be filled out and returned to Hogwarts School before September 1. This form is the application for the continuation of courses during the subsequent term at Hogwarts School. Classes are restricted by their specific instructors; thus, any question or concerns regarding these requirements should be brought to the corresponding professor. Forms should be submitted as soon as possible to ensure that students are admitted into their classes of choice._

_I hope your marks are satisfactory._

_** Due to extenuating circumstances, the Astronomy score has been augmented by half a grade. This enhancement is only applicable to your particular exam period._

_ Madame Marchbanks_

_ Official Ministry OWL Distributor and Grader_

Harry only skimmed the letter before taking a deep breath and looking at the first attachment.

_The following information conveys the Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations attempted by Harry James Potter, the subsequent scores, and the total number of OWLs achieved._

_Astronomy…Acceptable_

_Care of Magical Creatures…Outstanding_

_Charms…Exceeds Expectations_

_Defense against the Dark Arts…Outstanding with Distinguished Honors_

_Divination…Poor_

_Herbology…Acceptable_

_History of Magic…Dreadful_

_Transfiguration…Exceeds Expectations_

_Potions…Acceptable_

_Total Number of OWLs…7 out of 9_

Harry did not know whether to feel relieved or disappointed as he looked at his scores, so he settled for a little of both. Harry looked up to see Hermione practically bouncing up and down as she waited for him and Ron to finish reading.

"How'd you do," Harry asked before she burst.

"Twelve OWLs! I can't believe it!"

"But I thought you were only taking eleven classes," Ron said perplexedly, looking up from his own letter.

"I was," Hermione explained. "I sent a letter of request to the Governor's Board at the beginning of last year. They allowed me to take the Muggle Studies exam without sitting through the class if I successfully scheduled an acceptable independent studies program with McGonagall."

"Let me guess," groused Ron, gripping his scores unnecessarily hard, "you got all Outstandings."

Hermione glanced at Ron uneasily and nodded, her earlier enthusiasm dimmed somewhat at his obvious tension.

"Of course you did," Ron griped. "You're perfect."

"Calm down, Ron," Remus advised. "I'm sure you know that Hermione worked very hard for her scores."

Ron looked at Hermione distressed face and his anger faded.

"I know, I'm sorry," Ron apologized.

"I'm sure you did well too, Ron."

"Well not as good as you or Percy or Bill for that matter, but I beat Charlie and the twins," Ron announced proudly. "Six OWLs."

"That's great, Ron" announced Harry, happy for his friend.

"What did you get them in," Hermione asked.

"Let's see," Ron muttered looking back at his list, "I received an A in Astronomy, an O in Magical Creatures, an E in Charms, an O in Defense, an A in Herbology, and an A in Transfiguration. What about you Harry?"

"I got 7 OWLs," Harry stated, "A's in Astronomy, Herbology, and Potions; E's in Charms and Transfiguration, and O's in Defense and Magical Creatures."

"Good for you, mate," Ron said clapping him on the shoulder.

"Very good all around, I'd say" Remus added, "Sounds like a treat of some sort of treat is in store for our trip tomorrow."

The three kids cheered in excitement and traded letters to get a better look. Harry noticed that Ron made a D in Divination, as Harry had on his History of Magic score. As he looked at Hermione's scores he saw that she had received honors in Transfiguration, Potions, and Ancient Runes. He made a note to reread his letter as he saw that hers did not say distinguished, but Hermione saved him the trouble.

"Harry!" she exclaimed suddenly, waving his marks around.

"What? Is there something wrong with it?"

"You got _distinguished _honors in Defense," she said emphasizing the word.

Ron looked at Harry in surprise and gave a low whistle.

"Even Percy didn't get that."

"What does it mean?"

"Didn't you read it?"

"It means you got the highest score in recorded history, young man," Remus informed him proudly.

"Oh, it must've been the patronus," Harry murmured aloud.

Ron shook his head at Harry's cluelessness, but Hermione would not let it go.

"Harry, don't you see, that's amazing! They'll probably have a ceremony when we go back in September!"

"What?" Harry asked in dismay.

"Sorry mate, looks like your fan club might be starting a little bit early," Ron taunted.

Everyone laughed at the resigned terror on Harry's face and let the topic drop. As they put their letters back in the envelopes, Hermione remembered that Ginny was working on the posters and dashed upstairs to help.

"Poster for what?"Remus inquired.

"We're starting a charity program for Voldemort's victims," Ron stated proudly.

"Sounds like a lot of work," he said thoughtfully.

"Way to be supportive, Remus," Harry teased him.

"Oh, I think it's a good idea," Remus smiled, "I just don't know how well it'll succeed."

"We're going to make it work," Ron insisted in a huff, promptly following Hermione upstairs.

"Oops," Remus said looking bemusedly where Ron had just left.

"He's not angry with you," Harry assured him, "He just really wants this to turn out well, for Hermione."

"Hmm…do you have a plan, though?"

"We've got just about everything arranged, I think"

Harry went on to explain how they planned to use the twins' shop to get everything started and then expand from there. When Harry mentioned Ginny's idea of getting him to endorse it, Remus smiled already knowing Harry hated the idea. Remus listened carefully and offered a few of his own ideas at the end.

"Fortescue would probably support you," Remus told Harry. "He lost his wife and daughter in the last war and he doesn't much like Minister Fudge."

Harry remembered the old man giving him free ice cream sundaes a couple of summers ago and agreed he would be one of the first shops they contacted. Remus also suggested that instead of their sponsors just giving the charity goods, maybe they should offer the people donating money something.

"For instance, at the ice cream parlor, if they donate books or money, they get a free scoop of ice cream."

Remus and Harry talked more until Ron and the girls came downstairs to present their posters. Ron was disappointed they could not make them move, since they did not have the use of their wands, but they seemed pleased overall. The posters were on simple parchment and written in Hermione's neat hand.

"I came up with the wording," Ron informed them.

_Phoenix's Flame_

_A Flare of Hope in a Time of Darkness_

_Phoenix's Flame is a charity organization that helps support the victims of Voldemort's attacks. Currently, we are collecting donations to help Hermione Granger and her family whose home was burned down by Death Eaters._

_To see a list of needed goods or to make a donation, go to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and ask for Fred or George Weasley._

Beneath the writing was a picture of a beautiful burning phoenix that Ginny sketched from a book she brought.

"Very nice," Remus praised them, as he looked them over. "I'm surprised you didn't say He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named though."

Ron shrugged and replied nonchalantly, "It's a step in the right direction."

Remus raised his eyebrow at Ron's behavior and Hermione explained, "He just started saying Voldemort today."

"Ah," Remus replied, looking back at the posters. "You know, I can't animate them, but I may be able to help."

Remus traced his wand over the edge of the posters and on top of the image of the phoenix, as he muttered a spell. Harry looked at the poster Remus was holding to see that it now glittered gold along the border and the edges of the phoenix's wings. Ginny squealed in delight and handed him the rest of the posters.

"What charm are you using?" Hermione asked as she watched him work.

"It's one I learned during my marauder days," Remus revealed between two posters. "I just adjusted it slightly to change the colors."

Hermione looked at Remus in respect and started quizzing him about it.

"The original spell is _Micocolorus_," Remus explained. "It causes whatever the color your charm to glitter; my version is somewhat more complicated as it adds a different color."

Harry listened as Remus described the spell. He was intrigued that Remus had altered the spell.

"The spells I cast were _Mico Rutilus _and_ Mico Aurum_. Rutilus and Aurum being the Latin words for red and gold respectively, which seems quite a simple change."

Harry nodded at Remus statement, but Hermione shook her head.

"Hermione, you intend to continue with Arithmacy, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione responded. "I want to continue with all of my courses."

"In that case, you will probably learn more about the topic this year. I won't go into all of the Arithmancy behind making the adjustment, but in the end the spell wording and the wand movement had to change to make it work. Initially just tracing the wand tip over the desired area and saying the spell was enough. To add color, one must pause after the word 'mico,' and instead of just tracing over the area a swift tap must follow at the end of the spell.

Harry did not think that was too complicated, but Hermione was nodding as though it was, so Harry assumed that Remus was oversimplifying things so he could understand. Remus continued explaining.

"The spell was created for use by the public, meaning that anyone who learns how to cast it properly will be able to do so. When I adjusted the spell for my own means I limited the number of people who can use. Generally, it seems that witches and wizards who have similar…powers, shall we say, can use it."

"So you mean that a weaker person couldn't use the spell?" Harry questioned.

"Not necessarily," Remus clarified, shifting into professor mode. "Witches or wizards can be good at one subject like Charms, but inept at another like Transfiguration. The Shimmer Charm falls under the charms category as you don't change the physical structure of the object you cast it on. Consequently, someone who excels in Transfiguration may not be able to use the charm."

"Theoretically, though," Hermione asked, "shouldn't a powerful enough witch or wizard be able to use any spell, no matter its classification?"

"In theory, yes," Remus agreed, "In fact, someone with that amount of magical power probably wouldn't even need to say the spell."

Hermione nodded in acceptance of his explanation, seeming to have put some thought into it beforehand. Remus glanced at the clock of the mantle and Harry saw his eyebrows shoot up.

"Unfortunately, I can't explain anything more as it appears that I am late for an appointment. I'm glad I got to spend some time with you today though," Remus said smiling at the group.

He quickly walked out of the room and Harry heard you exit through the front door. Ginny gathered the completed eleven posters and laid them on the table in front of the couch.

"Didn't we make twelve posters?" Hermione asked, thumbing through the signs.

Ron shrugged, but Ginny replied, "I thought we did, but maybe we counted wrong."

Hermione continued stopped counting and mumbled, "I guess so…"

"So, Hermione told me you lot got your OWL results," Ginny announced.

Ron puffed up and proudly listed off his scores causing his sister to clap happily for him.

"What do you think mum is going to get you?" she asked.

Ron's face perked up and he looked happier than a kid a Christmas. Ginny smiled and asked Harry what his scores were, as Ron gave a list of the things he might get to Hermione.

"I got seven," Harry told her.

"I seem to remember Hermione screaming at me that you got a little something else, as well," Ginny chuckled.

"Yeah, I got 'distinguished honors' on my defense score. I still think it's just because I can produce a corporeal patronus, though."

"Harry, give yourself some credit. No one's gotten distinguished honors in a few decades."

Harry was surprised to hear that; he had thought it was something that happened every few years. Still not wanting to think of the consequences his so-called accomplishment might have, Harry changed the subject.

"Have you started worrying about your OWLs yet?"

"Oh, don't mention them. Hermione gave me a lecture while we were upstairs about how I should start studying right now. It's going to be a nightmare," Ginny groaned.

"Come on, it won't be that bad. I mean, we weren't stressing all that much and we did fine."

"Are you kidding me? You three were acting like headless chickens the week of the exams."

"Huh, I must have obliviated that memory," Harry said airily.

Ginny laughed slightly before asking, "Have you decided what you're going to take next year?"

"I guess whatever I can," Harry responded. "Although, I won't be able to become an Auror… not with my Potion's score."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. I bet the academy would take you right now, what with all the experience you've got. You've probably got some of the actual Aurors beat."

"I doubt it. I've fought against Voldemort a couple of times, but I've never actually bested him."

"Harry…you're doing it again."

"What?" he asked in confusion.

"Not giving yourself credit. How many people do you think could have lasted this long with a dark lord trying to kill them?"

"All of you have."

"Harry that prophecy talks about you for a reason! Not me, not Hermione, not Ron – you! You have a 'power he knows not'."

"But what is it! How am I supposed to use it?"

"I suspect you'll figure it out when you need it most. Right now, though, I'd say your power is your will to live; think of all the times you've needed a miracle to save you and one just happened to appear."

"You mean Dumbledore swooping in at the last moment to save the day," Harry stated glumly.

"No!" Ginny insisted. "Most of the time you saved yourself. Sure you've got friends to help along the way, but in the end it's always was you who has to take advantage of our help."

Harry could not deny that there was truth in Ginny's words but still he did not feel confident in his abilities.

"Harry, it's almost seems like you don't want our support."

"No, that's not it at all," Harry finally said. "Without you lot I'd be dead. I'm just…scared, I guess. What if no one's there when I face him for the last time?"

"Harry, we're not going to leave you," Hermione insisted, joining the conversation.

"We're scared too," Ron admitted, "but we're sticking with you whether you like it or not."

Harry smiled at them in gratitude and said, "It seems like every conversation we have today comes back to this."

"And they probably will until we convince you that we can handle this," Ginny said.

Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement, and Harry slowly began to accept that he really was not completely alone in his battle.

"So, what classes are you going to take next year," Hermione asked the boys.

Ron groaned, "Do we have to talk about school so soon!"

"Don't tell me you haven't started on your summer work yet, Ronald," Hermione threatened.

When she saw that both Ron and Harry ducked their heads in guilt, she adopted an exaggerated offended expression.

"I don't believe you two. Almost two full weeks into summer vacation and you haven't even looked at it!"

"Well, we don't know what classes we're taking yet," Ron suggested in their defense.

"Exactly!" Hermione declared in triumph. "That's why we're going to figure that out right now."

Both boys grumbled in defeat but pulled the second attachment our of the OWL envelopes. Harry unfolded the parchment and began reading, carefully this time.

_Mr. Potter,_

_ I am pleased to see that you received the best marks in Defense against the Dark Arts not only in your class, but overall as well. Congratulations. It was a very pleasant, although not completely unexpected, surprise. _

_All NEWT level classes require at least a score of Acceptable for admittance, no matter the circumstances. Below is a list of the required scores established by the professors for immediate entrance into the NEWT level classes:_

_Ancient Runes...Acceptable_

_Arithmancy... Acceptable_

_Care of Magical Creatures... Acceptable_

_Divination... Acceptable_

_Muggle Studies... Acceptable_

_Practical and Domestic Spells...Acceptable_

_Astronomy... Exceeds Expectations_

_Charms... Exceeds Expectations_

_Defense against the Dark Arts... Exceeds Expectations_

_Herbology... Exceeds Expectations_

_History of Magic... Exceeds Expectations_

_Transfiguration... Exceeds Expectations_

_Potions... Outstanding_

_In regards to your schedule for next term, you have four classes in which you immediately qualify for the NEWT level: Transfiguration, Charms, Defense against the Dark Arts, and Care of Magical Creatures._

_However, as I am sure you are aware you would also need the Potion's NEWT to qualify as an Auror, which you expressed to be your desired future goal. Your situation is most unusual in that you received such high marks in some areas and yet alarmingly low ones in others. Nonetheless, as I promised you, I will do everything in my power to see that you became an Auror. I intend to personally talk with Professor Snape and the headmaster to see if I can arrange something; I feel confident that I shall._

_As a sixth year student, it is required that you take five regular courses throughout the school year, three of which must be NEWT level. In the case that my endeavors fail, I suggest that you choose an alternative course to take in addition to the four classes I listed above. I would advise against selecting Divination once more._

_Please fill out the attached form and owl your decisions to me as soon as possible. I hope you have an enjoyable summer vacation and I look for to seeing you in September._

_ Professor McGonagall_

_ Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Harry glanced over the part of the letter suggesting which courses he should before he looked up. Hermione was already filling out the form and Harry could see that she was simply writing down all of her same classes. Ron, on the other hand, was fretfully chewing on the end of his quill and asking Ginny for suggestions at the same time. Remembering his friend's scores, Harry realized that Ron had even less options than he did.

Hermione finished writing and saw that Harry was looking slightly puzzled so she asked him if he needed any help.

"Well, McGonagall said I should definitely take the classes I got O's and E's in, but she said I should pick another course as well."

"It's a shame you didn't get the mark you needed in Potions," Hermione lamented.

"McGonagall said she'd try to work something out, but that this other course should be back up."

Hermione looked at him in surprise. "Even with an A, when Snape requires an O for his NEWT level class?" she questioned.

Harry shrugged his shoulders in response.

"Well, I was going to suggest that you should take the alternative potions class…you wouldn't be able to take the NEWT level with me of course, but it's better than nothing."

"What do you mean 'the alternative course'?"

"During sixth year, Hogwarts offers alternative courses in place of NEWT level classes for students who want to further their knowledge of a subject but don't feel ready for the NEWT level. This is in _Hogwarts: a History_ and some of the handbooks McGonagall gave us last year, you know," Hermione admonished.

"But that's what we have you for," Ron cheerfully inserted, adamantly listening to her textbook explanation as well.

Hermione shook her head in mock despair, but continued anyway.

"The school offers alternative classes for the main subjects in the normal curriculum. The same material is taught at a less stringent pace, but the most significant difference is that the professor isn't the same."

Both Harry and Ron's attitudes shifted upon hearing this as they imagined potions without the dreaded Professor Snape.

"Sometimes another professor teaches the class because he or she also like the topic, especially the professors of our secondary classes, but many times the school hires part-time teachers to come in and hold private lessons," Hermione continued explaining. "In recent years, the alternative classes haven't been very popular because students view them as a waste of time as you can't get NEWT credit for them. Most people opt to take remedial classes and then take an advanced version of the OWLs, the IMPs or the Intermediary Magical Practicals, at the end of the year. The IMPs qualify you for the NEWT level course in seventh year and thus the NEWTs themselves. Of course, it goes on your transcript that you took the IMPs instead of progressing straight to the NEWT level classes."

Ron was beginning to sport a confused expression, but Harry thought he got the gist of it. Percy and the twins had not taken any IMPs classes so even Ron and Ginny did not know about them.

"So, who teaches the remedial classes," Harry asked.

"The same professors who teach the NEWT classes, except you take extended lessons on the weekends and sit in on the NEWT classes. However, you can only take one remedial course and only if you are one mark below the cut off for the NEWT class," Hermione said, apologetically as she had not mentioned the last bit before.

Harry looked over his grades, trying to decide what to take. He could take a remedial course in Astronomy or Herbology but he did not particularly want to continue with either of the classes.

"Hermione," Harry finally asked, "What if I want to take a class I've never had before?"

Hermione pondered for a moment before she responded. "I think you would have to start from the beginning and take classes with the third years. I've never really heard of anyone doing that though."

"Oh," Harry replied, not liking the idea very much.

"You could owl Professor McGonagall and ask her what your choices are," Hermione suggested.

Harry nodded and grabbed a blank piece of parchment. After writing the letter and getting Hermione's approval, Harry left to find Hedwig. Harry remembered that she was in his bedroom, but went to the kitchen first to get her some scraps of food. He assumed she had eaten while she was trying to find him, but she always seemed to welcome extra treats. Finding some leftover bacon from breakfast and a dish to fill with water, Harry brought the items upstairs and into his room. Hedwig was resting on the headboard of his bed with her head tucked under her wing. Harry laid his offerings on the nightstand and walked over to her.

"Hey there girl," Harry crooned as he gently stroked her back.

Hedwig woke at his touch and stretched her wings into the air. She hooted in response to his welcome and nibbled his finger slightly. Harry fed her some of the bacon and showed the water dish to her. Luckily, she did not seem angry with him, as Harry had feared seeing as he had left her and gone where she could not find him.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he said. "Although you did a very good job of finding me anyway, didn't you?"

Hedwig ruffled her feathers and hooted in way that seemed to say, "Of course!" Harry chuckled at her personality.

"I hope you're up to another trip 'cause I've got a letter that needs to go all the way to Hogwarts."

Hedwig bobbed her head in response and lifted her leg for him to tie the letter on. As Harry did so he explained that hopefully he would still be here or at the Burrow by the time she returned.

"Now, do you know how to get out of here?" Harry asked.

Hedwig flew to his shoulder in response.

"I suppose that's a no," Harry murmured as he walked out of the room.

Harry went back downstairs in search of someone who could tell him how to send his letter. He supposed that he could have tried to contact McGonagall by floo, but he certainly did not enjoy that mode of transportation and he was not even sure if she lived in the castle during the summer. Harry poked his head into the study to see Tonks examining some papers on the table. As far as he could, she was the only other person in the house.

"Wotcher Tonks" Harry called from the doorway.

Tonks looked up sharply at his greeting and quickly gathered the papers up. "Hello, Harry. I didn't see you there."

"Doing secret work for the Order, I assume," Harry said jokingly.

"Something like that…" Tonks mumbled. "What can I do for you?"

Harry wanted to ask her more about what she was doing, but knew that would probably just get him in trouble.

"I wanted to owl a letter to Hogwarts about my courses next year, but I wasn't sure how to send it," Harry said, stroking Hedwig's head gently.

"The safest way would be to let her out through the back windows in the kitchen," Tonks recommended directly. "We're not supposed to do anything from the front door that might seem unusual to the muggles."

Harry thanked her and left Tonks to continue pouring over her map. He noticed that she did not seem her normal chipper self, but did not know what to make of it. Harry tried to open a couple of windows in the kitchen but only the one over the sink would budge. Once it was ajar, Hedwig took to the air and soared through the petite gap; Harry watched her until she disappeared into the sky. When he returned to the library, Ron was just finishing the form for what classes he wanted to take next year.

"What did you decide on?" Harry asked, looking over Ron's shoulder.

"I qualified for the Magical Creatures, Defense, and Charms NEWTs classes so I'll be taking those. And I decided to take the Transfiguration remedial course, since that one seemed most important. I didn't really want to continue with any of the other ones, but since I have to have a fifth class I settled on the alternative Herbology class. I'm just glad I won't have Snape anymore."

Harry nodded and agreed that those looked that like Ron's best options. Neither of them was sure what occupation those classes would make him eligible for, but Ron did not seem to care for now.

"I've still got to get my parent's approval on this before I can owl it though," Ron informed them, tucking the form into his pocket.

Not having anything to do again Harry looked around the room to see that Hermione was curled up in a chair again with her sizeable book and that Ginny was asleep on the couch. His stomach growled and Harry looked at the clock to realize it had been five hours since their sandwiches at lunch.

"Think there's anything in the kitchen we can make for dinner," Harry asked Ron.

"I should think my mum's cooking us something," Ron said as his own stomach grumbled.

"I don't think there's anyone here except us and Tonks."

"What about my parents?" Hermione asked, peeking over her book.

"I don't think they're here. I just went around the house looking for someone and I only found Tonks in the study."

"That's strange," Hermione said, setting her book aside. "They can't have gone anywhere. They don't know this area at all."

Harry shrugged and suggested they ask Tonks. They decided to let Ginny remain sleeping and headed to the study across the hall. As they entered the room, Tonks once again quickly put away the map she was surveying.

"Do you need something?" Tonks asked.

"I was wondering where my parents are," Hermione asked.

"Dumbledore invited them to go look at a house."

"That was quick," Hermione stated in surprise. "What didn't anyone ask me to go?"

"You weren't needed," Tonks replied with a half shrug.

"Where'd my mum go?" Ron asked as well.

"She…" Tonks paused for moment. "She went home."

"Why'd she go back home?" Ron asked the confusion clear in his voice. "Did she at least leave us any food?"

"I don't know, why don't you go check the kitchen?" Tonks responded, gesturing towards the doorway.

The three left and headed to the kitchen. Ron immediately began looking through the cupboards but did not spot any food anywhere.

"That's not like Mum," Ron expressed rubbing his complaining stomach. "She's usually fretting that we don't get enough food."

"Did you notice that Tonks didn't seem quite herself," Hermione asked, looking thoughtful.

Harry nodded and replied, "She seemed distant, like she didn't want us in there."

"Harry, I think you're point from earlier about no one being here is starting to make sense," Hermione said, beginning to pace the room. "I mean, doesn't it seem kind of odd that Dumbledore was so willing to let you stay here another day when he wants you to keep living with your relatives, for your own safety, even when your uncle's abusing you."

Harry nodded silently, not sure where Hermione was leading to with her train of thought.

"And why would Mrs. Weasley bring both Ginny and Ron here and go home without them?"

"She did seem rather adamant that we come here this morning," Ginny put in, walking into the kitchen rubbing her eyes.

"Do you think something's going on?" Ron asked dubiously. "I didn't think Voldemort would try something so soon after his last attack."

"Why else would everyone mysteriously disappear without telling us anything?" Harry disagreed.

"Dumbledore even gave us our OWL results to keep us occupied," Hermione added.

It seemed that Dumbledore was more determined than ever to keep Harry and thus his friends clueless about the war. Harry turned and headed back to the study his anger easily palpable. Harry stormed into the study and began venting his temper without delay.

"What's going on! Was there another attack!" Harry demanded, glaring at Tonks.

"What? There hasn't been an attack. Calm down," Tonks insisted, surprised at his sudden enterance.

"What are you trying to hide?" he persisted.

"I don't want to…I'm not supposed to…argh!" Tonks faltered in frustration, placing her hands on either side of her head.

The others walked into the room, as Tonks struggled to form a sentence. While Harry waited for her to explain, he noticed the faint odor of smoke lingering in the room.

"Would you believe me if I told you nothing bad was happening?" Tonks finally asked with hope in her voice.

Harry wanted to say no and force her to tell him what was going on, but realized he was being extremely narrow-minded.

"Yes, we would," Hermione answered for him, standing at his side.

Tonks heaved a sigh of relief and said, "Good, because there isn't."

Harry looked at her shrewdly and Tonks' guard fell a little.

"All right, there is something I'm not supposed to tell you, but I promise it's nothing bad," she insisted. "I knew he shouldn't have told me to do this," Tonks muttered to herself.

"We are acting rather paranoid, you know." Ron whispered to them.

Harry backed down slightly, realizing the truth in the statement.

"We have a right to be," Hermione defended, sounding embarrassed.

"That may be true," Ginny acknowledged, "but that doesn't give us the right to interrogate Tonks like she's the enemy."

"Here, here," Tonks called from her seat at the table.

Harry rubbed the back of his head in shame as he imagined how offensive he must have sounded.

"Sorry, Tonks, it's just…" Harry tried to apologize.

"It's alright Harry, I know you're going through a pretty rough time right now," Tonks said, a saddened look in her eyes.

Before anyone could respond, a call sounded from the hallway abruptly followed by the screech of Mrs. Black.

"Is there anyone here?" Mrs. Weasley's voice rang out.

As Harry ran into the hall to help end Mrs. Black's screams, he noted that it was unlike Mrs. Weasley to upset the portrait. Ron and he managed to pull the curtains shut before the old woman could recognize anyone and really begin her vindictiveness.

"I thought you went home, mum," Ron said as he relieved his mother of one of the bags she was holding.

"Oh, I did. I went to get some food for dinner. It's rather sad that they keep such few decent fixings here," Mrs. Weasley explained.

Now Harry and his friends were really beginning to feel foolish. It seemed their ideas of secrets and hidden attacks were naught but conjurations of paranoid imaginations. To hide their embarrassment, everyone helped Mrs. Weasley get set up in the kitchen until she shooed them out insisting that she could handle supper herself.

They gathered in library glancing warily at each other, not wanting to acknowledge their foolishness.

"If someone would just tell us what's actually going on, this kind of thing wouldn't happen," Ron finally said to ease their bruised confidence, especially Harry's.

Harry looked at his mate and smiled at bit at his attempt at redemption.

"Or we could stop being paranoid," Ginny speculated.

Harry and Ron glanced at each and suddenly shouted, "Constant Vigilance!"

"Oh fine, so maybe a little paranoia doesn't hurt," Ginny admitted, tossing a pillow at the two sitting on the couch.

"I wonder what they're really doing," Hermione pondered aloud, "and who's a part of it."

Harry could tell that she did not like having a mystery in the air with no way to resolve it.

"Oh just drop it," Ron warned, "There's no use getting worked up over nothing."

Hermione glared at him halfheartedly but offered no witty retort. After a bit, Mrs. Weasley called them into the kitchen for supper; they enjoyed some homemade casserole and chocolate pudding for dessert. As they ate, Mrs. Weasley offered a suggestion to her children.

"Since we're all going to Diagon Alley tomorrow morning, I see no reason to return home tonight. So I brought over the necessary things for the two of you to spend the night. And Harry dear, I brought you an extra outfit too; it's in Ron's bag."

Ron and Ginny cheered and took the small bags that their mother handed them. Once everyone finished with dessert, Mrs. Weasley sent them upstairs with orders to brush their teeth and go to bed. Ron roomed with Harry, whose bedroom now contained two beds once again. And Ginny would be sharing the room Hermione had slept in the night before, which was adjacent to her parent's room. For once, they listened to her and fell asleep looking forward to excursion into Diagon Alley tomorrow.


	8. Crosswise and Slantways

Disclaimer: Ditto

* * *

_Thursday, July 11, 1996_

As Harry stirred from his slumber the only sound he heard in the quiet household was the snoring of his roommate. As empty as the building had been the previous day, it now seemed that much more barren, Harry thought as he lay still in his bed. Harry turned over to see Ron was oblivious to the world and elected to let his friend stay that way until he finished getting ready. After his shower, Harry found the bag Ron's mother had given her son the night before and fished out the clothing that looked to fit him. The pants were a little long and the plain t-shirt was a tad baggy, but the clothes fit him better than the old rags he had been wearing yesterday. Deciding it was time to wake up Ron, Harry softly walked over this his friend's bed and leaned towards his ear.

"Ron!" Harry whispered, "Ron, wake up!"

The boy in question merely grumbled slightly and rolled over. Rolling his eyes, Harry shouted, "There's a huge spider in your bed!"

Ron jumped up with his eyes still closed and tripped over his bed sheets as he tried to scramble away from the cot.

"Where is it!" Ron shouted blearily, struggling to untangle himself from the sheets.

It took a moment for Ron to realize that Harry was not responding, as he was too busy doubling over with laughter.

"Oh ha, ha," Ron guffawed in irritation as he stood up, "Very amusing."

"Come on," Harry said, still laughing, "We're going to Diagon Alley."

"It's too early to go anywhere," Ron muttered, rubbing the grit out of his eyes.

Ron grabbed his bag of clothing and grumbled about insensitive gits not letting people sleep, all the way down the hall as he shuffled to the bathroom. Still chuckling, Harry followed him out of the room after grabbing his wand of the nightstand, but continued down the stairs to the ground floor instead. Harry glanced around into the other rooms, but still did not see anyone in the house. Catching the heavenly scent of bacon drifting out of a door in the entrance hallway, Harry headed down the stairs into the basement.

Harry entered the kitchen to find it bustling with activity, much as it had the morning before. He managed to slip into a chair at the large table unnoticed and simply watched as everyone ran around attempting to get breakfast in order. The women, namely Mrs. Weasley, Mrs. Granger, Hermione and Ginny; were busy trying finish cooking the food. Ginny, working to make large stacks of pancakes was challenging Hermione to make the most bizarrely shaped pastries. After one particularly intriguing shape, the two girls were laughing so hard that their mothers came over to investigate; Harry could not see the hotcake in the frying pan but judging by the indignant faces the mothers and the now mortified ones of their daughters, Harry thought he might be able to guess.

The rest of the Weasley family, Mr. Weasley, the twins, Bill and Charlie, joined by Hermione's father and Remus were attempting to transfer the many completed dishes of food to the table. The twins, being their usual unruly selves, were using magic to make the dishes fly haphazardly from the kitchen counters to the table to frightful intrigue of Mr. Granger. Mr. Weasley was taking a more composed approach and carrying the plates to the table along with Remus. Occasionally, Mr. Weasley would catch one of Fred or George's wayward plates with a well placed spell before it came crashing to the ground. His quick reflexes surprised Harry at first, but with seven children Harry supposed the father had much practice.

Sitting at the head of the table already was Kingsley Shacklebolt reading the Daily Prophet. The auror would occasionally glance over his paper when a plate came dangerously close to his head, but otherwise did not seem to pay much mind to the pandemonium around him. Harry guessed that Kingsley must have been one of Order members going with them to Diagon Alley. He moved over a couple of seats to come within speaking range.

"Good morning, sir," Harry spoke, raising his voice of the noisy disorder.

"Good morning, Harry," Kingsley responded, folding his paper down. "It's good to see you up and about."

"I was wondering if I could borrow the parts of the paper you've finished."

Kingsley nodded and pulled the front half of his newspaper out and handed it to Harry. Harry laid it out in front of him and began scanning the headlines. He remembered Hermione once mentioning that even though Fudge was keeping Voldemort's attacks out off the front page, stories of deaths and disappearances were scattered throughout it.

While Harry read, he noticed a column authored in part by the same woman who wrote the mass breakout from Azkaban article, Ima Newsey. The column was a daily feature in the Prophet, with several different contributing writers of which today's was June Beatile, that answered letters from the public concerning the current happenings in the wizarding world. At the bottom of the editorial, a quote from the minister indicated that the column was a ministry approved source on how to handle rumors and other misleading reports. From what Harry could tell, these rumors that the public wrote in about seemed to circle around Voldemort and the boy-who-lived. Harry picked up the paper and quickly became disgusted with the "advice" this Beatile woman gave.

_Dear June,_

_ I have been following this column since you started participating and I want to thank you for the helpful advice you have provided. It has certainly helped clear up many of the concerns we've had here at home. However, I have one question that has not been answered yet. Over the past year or so the Daily Prophet and the ministry have insisted that the Boy-Who-Lived is a disturbed child who experiences delusions from the scar he received as a baby. Until recently, I believed this information; however, upon the discovery that Harry Potter has, in fact, been telling the truth about the return of You-Know-Who my faith in our government and this paper has wavered. How are we, the public, supposed to continue to believe our sources of authority when they have been lying to us for over a year? I don't like to think that Minister Fudge would purposefully hold us in the dark, but it certainly seems that this is exactly what happened._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Angry and Confused in Darlington_

_Dear Angry and Confused,_

_ I have received several letters in the same vein as yours. I can understand that you feel betrayed by the government that is supposed to protect you, but that is exactly what they are doing. It is true that Minister Fudge did not reveal that You-Know-Who had returned, but he did not hide this fact for over a year. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has only been restored to his body for a couple of weeks, not for an entire year. The Boy-Who-Lived is unfortunately still delusional in believing that the Dark Lord returned over a year ago. The Minister decided to deny the public this information at first in order to determine the best method to fight this evil. By not disclosing this knowledge, the Minister prevented immediate Death Eater attacks as You-Know-Who was lying low to conceal his return._

_ In fact, the recent attacks by the madman are the fault of none other than Harry Potter. If the foolish child had not broken into the Department of Mysteries last month then the Ministry of Magic could have dealt with You-Know-Who before he became a danger to the public. Now that the Minister's hand has been forced, the Dark Lord will take advantage of the situation and attack more frequently. However, I assure everyone that the Minister is now doing everything in his power to thwart the evil that is rising. He will not allow this setback to be the beginning of madness._

_ In staunch support of our Minister,_

_June Beatile_

Harry stared at the paper in his hands in horrific amazement; he almost could not believe that they were allowing this woman to print such lies for everyone to believe! Harry threw the paper on the table in disgust and folded his arms across his chest as he glared at it.

"If I'm not mistaken then you've just read June Beatile's column," Kingsley said, looking over his portion of the paper at Harry.

Harry nodded his head and gestured at the paper, unable to form words to express his discontent and revulsion.

Kingsley nodded in understanding and laid his paper down.

"She's been saying much of the same this past week," Kingsley explained. "We're doing our best to spread the word otherwise, but the Prophet was a wide audience."

"But they're such blatant lies," Harry replied. "Isn't there anyone at the ministry who Fudge doesn't have under his thumb?"

"There are quite of few of us actually," Mr. Weasley stated to Harry's right, as he placed a plate of sausages in front of him, "Including Auror Shacklebolt."

"I know," Harry said apologetically, "it's just that this – this woman reminds me of Rita Skeeter."

"Yes, we thought so too," Mr. Weasley agreed. "Especially since she hasn't been writing anything in the past few months, but we can't seem to find that reporter at all."

Harry remained quiet not wanting to let slip exactly what had happened to the spiteful animagus.

"Moreover, we can't discover the identity of this new reporter, either," Kingsley added, "and she unfortunately seems to have the ear of the minister. She's all but taken over that column."

Harry shook his head in annoyance. They had finally gotten rid of one blasted reporter and now it seemed he had attracted another even more malicious one.

Their conversation ended as the rest of household gathered around the table to start breakfast at last. Harry handed the portion of the paper back to Kingsley, who folded it along with his and placed it beneath his chair. Just as everyone was about to start, Harry saw Ron rush down the stairs and grab the last seat. Harry himself was seated between Kingsley and one of the twins, who he thought was George but was not entirely sure as the twin in question was fighting his neighbor, presumably Fred, for the toast. Across from him sat Bill and Hermione, who were helping themselves to some eggs. The kitchen was finally silent for a bit as everyone sought to fill their plates and their stomachs. At length, the rush for food calmed and conversation began resurfacing.

"Dad, do all these Order members have to come with us to Diagon Alley?" Harry heard Ron complain across the table. "It'll be creepy with all those people following us."

"Don't question you father, Ronald," Mrs. Weasley reprimanded. "They are necessary for everyone's protection."

Harry saw Mrs. Weasley glance at him as she said this, but she quickly looked away when she noticed Harry looking back. Ron sulked in his seat slightly but did not protest further.

"Who else is coming?" Bill asked around a mouthful of eggs.

"Everyone at this table and just a couple more," Mr. Weasley responded as he looked at everyone present. "Bill, you and the others should probably leave soon to set up the perimeter."

Harry was slightly surprised at the sheer amount of people coming, but realized that this was probably why there was such a large crowd for breakfast. As they finished the last of the food on their plates, everyone hurried to wash and put the dishes away. Mrs. Weasley announced they should all meet in the parlor, as it held the largest fireplace, and that everyone should wear muggle clothes. Harry, already having his wand, was prepared to go immediately so he walked upstairs and to the door across the hall. The house guests who were not still cleaning up in the kitchen went upstairs to either get dressed or grab their necessities for the trip.

Seeing that he was the first person in the study, Harry dropped down into one of the surprisingly comfortable armchairs beside the hearth to wait. Glancing around the room, he recognized one of the cupboards Hermione, Ron, and he had been unfortunate experience to sort out the summer before. Leaning over to pry it open with his hand, Harry tugged on the handle but the door was stuck. He twisted his hand to get a better grip and gave the door a sound jerk, which caused the catch to release. Harry slipped back into his chair with a thud once the door gave and noticed a small black cube fall off one of the shelves and roll underneath his chair. Picking the cube up, Harry rolled it in his palm and noticed that the corners were all rounded. The cube was made of a smooth glass-like black stone with fine silver veins dancing throughout the surface that shimmered when tilted in the light. The veins seemed to ebb and flow through the stone itself, flickering like flames over the cube's surface. Harry gazed at the stone in fascination when suddenly he felt a great heat in his hand causing him to cry out in pain and drop the cube.

"I see you found Sirius' puzzle box," Remus said, as he walked into study carrying a small pouch. "I had forgotten about that old thing."

"Puzzle box?" Harry asked in confusion. "That thing just burnt me."

"That's the first puzzle, I'm afraid." Remus said with a chuckle. "The box can only be held for a few seconds before it emits bursts of heat."

Remus picked up the cube and promptly placed it on the table adjacent to the armchair Harry was sitting in. Harry noticed that he was wearing old but will kept brown corduroy slacks and a white button shirt that was slightly frayed at the ends. Remus took the chair on the other side of the fireplace as Harry posed a question.

"This puzzle box belonged to Sirius?" Harry inquired, thinking that his godfather did not seem the type to have enough patience for such a task.

"Actually, no, it belonged to his mother," Remus said, staring into the hearth in remembrance. "The summer before second year, I think it was, Sirius found the cube hidden somewhere in the house and discovered that it burned the holder. So, as a prank, he gave it to Regulus, who ran to their mother after he was burnt. However, Mrs. Black was not angry at Sirius for hurting his brother, but instead was furious with the both of them for having the cube in the first place. Sirius, always suspicious of his parents' activities, determined that her anger was due to a secret the cube must hold. Subsequently, Sirius nicked the cube from the house before he came to Hogwarts that year and for several weeks attempted to decipher it."

"Did he ever figure it out?" Harry asked, eying the cube warily.

"To our surprise, he did to some extent. He was able to stop the cube from burning people, however, instead of unraveling the mystery another puzzle was revealed – hence the name puzzle box. Unfortunately, Sirius' mother discovered why her cube was missing at almost the same time and personally came to Hogwarts to retrieve it. Now, that was a nightmare. She had a row with Sirius in front of the whole school about what a failure and disappointment he was. In the end, the teachers led her away and retrieved the cube to compel her to leave."

Harry shook his head in disgust at the woman now hanging on the wall outside the room, but looked at the puzzle box with renewed interest.

"How did Sirius solve the first puzzle," Harry asked.

"Now where's the fun in that?" Remus protested with a laugh. "I don't know actually," he admitted after a pause. "Sirius usually only fiddled with it when he was by himself. If you'd like you can keep it and work on it during your spare time; I'm sure Sirius would have liked that."

Harry looked at Remus for a moment and nodded his thanks. After a few more seconds, Remus continued.

"You'll want to have a bag to tote it in, so it doesn't constantly burn your hand." Remus suggested. "And it wouldn't hurt to go ahead and bring your bag to Diagon Alley to help carry whatever you buy."

Harry agreed and walked out the study to retrieve his knapsack from the second floor. As he jogged up the stairs, Harry noted that Remus seemed overly agreeable with almost anything Harry said in the past couple of days. Remembering their dispute from a few days ago at the Dursleys, Harry speculated that the man might be trying to win him over or something. Harry sighed in frustration; he did not resent Remus for offering to be his godfather, in fact he was rather touched, Harry just did not want Sirius to be officially replaced. It would mean that Sirius was really dead, and Harry did not know if he could handle that.

Finding his bag in the bedroom, Harry emptied his other set of clothes and his toiletries onto the bed. As he headed back downstairs, Harry's previously enthusiastic mood was somewhat dampened. He felt that there was a problem in almost every aspect of his life; he could not go anywhere or do anything without feeling the pull of something he was supposed to accomplish.

Pinching the bridge of his nose against the headache that was forming behind his eyes, Harry reached the ground floor and walked to the study. As he entered, Mrs. Weasley called out to him.

"There you are, Harry, it's about time to go," Mrs. Weasley said, ushering him into the room.

Harry looked up in surprise to see that everyone had gathered in the study during his absence. Glancing around the room, he saw that several of the Order members had already left, including Remus. The only people that remained were the Weasley family, minus Bill and Charlie, and the Grangers. Harry spotted his three friends huddled in a corner, as everyone made ready to leave.

Hermione, who had been wearing baggy t-shirt and some sweatpants at breakfast, was now wearing clothing which Harry assumed belonged to Ginny. Ginny was shorter than Hermione and obviously over two years younger than her. To make do with the denim pants, Hermione cuffed the ends so that they ended mid-calf. However, to Hermione's embarrassment, the shirt was another matter. The blouse was light blue in color, but distinctly too small in breadth and length. Consequently, Hermione was standing stiff-backed and hugging her arms tightly across her chest, when she was not tugging down the hem of the shirt in an attempt to hide the image her ill-fitting attire presented.

Hermione's parents, in contrast, were sporting robes that seemed decades out of fashion and much too big for their stature. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were both slim and approximately the same height, taller than Mrs. Weasley but shorter than Mr. Weasley. Consequently, this meant Mrs. Granger robe was a bit too short but decidedly too spacious, while Mr. Granger's was simply too large in all dimensions. The rest of the group was wearing an odd assembly of muggle clothing, which blatantly exposed the fact that Harry was standing in a room full of wizards.

"This lot needs a new wardrobe," Harry thought to himself as he reached his friends. "If Voldemort wanted to attack us in muggle London, we might as well be holding a sign proclaiming, 'Aim curses here.'"

As Harry joined the group, he noticed that both Ron and Hermione were both red-faced while Ginny was glaring at her brother in annoyance. Hermione seemed to be blushing in embarrassment, while Ron was stifling laughter; apparently, he had been doing so for some time as suddenly the sound burst from his lips. Hermione was about to give him an earful, when Fred interrupted.

"Sorry my dear, but it seems your exquisite appearance has driven our brother into a fit," he said eyeing her appreciatively.

"If it would please you, we could put an end to the dreadful din he is creating," George added as he fingered his wand.

This effectively stopped Ron's laughter seeing as he was now searching earnestly for a place to hide, but it caused Hermione's blush to spread to the roots of her hair. However, before anyone could continue, Mrs. Weasley grabbed the twins by their ears and pulled them away.

"That will be quite enough from you two," she scolded. "It's time for you to leave at any rate."

Hermione appeared grateful for the Weasley matron's interference but shrunk further into her corner. Mrs. Weasley peered around the room to make sure everyone was present in the cramped room before she released the twins and hustled them towards the fireplace. Harry heard Mr. Weasley call for their attention as the twins hopped into the fireplace and shouted, "Diagon Alley, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes!"

"Now if everyone's ready…" Mr. Weasley began. "As you know we're travelling by floo, but we're using the twin's shop instead of the Leaky Cauldron so make sure you pronounce the name clearly. It's a bit of a tongue twister, so enunciation is particularly important. We don't want anyone getting lost."

Mr. Weasley paused a moment to make sure they understood and glanced at Harry, before continuing. Harry felt his cheeks flush slightly remembering his last floo experience with the Weasleys.

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I'm afraid you'll have to floo with someone as you are both Muggles, but that shouldn't be a problem. Mrs. Granger, if you'll come with me and Hermione if you'll assist your father, we should be set."

Hermione nodded and went to stand next to her parents beside the fireplace. They looked at her with obvious trepidation about the peculiar method of transportation, but Hermione gave them an encouraging smile and whispered something that seemed to ease their tension.

"Bill and Alastor are already waiting in the shop for us, so if everyone's ready we'll be leaving now," Mr. Weasley said, gesturing for Mrs. Granger to join him.

Mr. Weasley took a pinch of floo powder from an old vase on the mantle and tossed it into the grate. The emerald flames appeared immediately and he guided the nervous Mrs. Granger into the magical fire. With his arm firmly around her shoulder, Mr. Weasley uttered the address in a strong voice. Mr. Granger gasped in surprise as he watched his wife spin away in the flames.

"Hermione, let me help you dear," Mrs. Weasley said before Hermione could enter the floo. Hermione paused in confusion as Mrs. Weasley waved her wand over Hermione's shirt. Harry watch as the shirt grew in size, much to Hermione's relief.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione responded empathetically.

"You're welcome. We have a lot of experience with that charm thanks to the boys. The shirts thinner now, but at least it fits decently. I'm sorry I didn't realize you and Ginny were such different sizes or I would have let you borrow one of mine. You and your father go ahead now."

Hermione grasped a small handful of floo powder, tossed the ash-like substance into the grate, and pulled her father into the opening behind her. Wrapping her arms around him tightly, she shouted the address.

"Your turn Harry, hurry along," Mrs. Weasley insisted, immediately after the flames died.

Harry made a slight face as he grasped a small handful of the powder, of all the forms of transportation Harry thought that this mode was his second to least favorite; portkey, of course, being the worst.

"Don't dawdle now," she told him. "Everyone's waiting. Just remember to say the words clearly."

Harry nodded and quickly jumped into the grate after he flung the powder.

"Weasley Wizarding Wheezes!" Harry called out lucidly, much to his relief.

Harry remembered to tuck his elbows in safely and held his breath as he spun, not wanting to inhale the surrounding ash; his lungs began to burn as he waited to be spat out at the right location. He was just about to chance taking a breath when he was hurled out onto a carpeted floor in an ungainly sprawl. As he rolled to a stop, Harry used his arms to push himself into a seated position with his legs splayed before him. He glanced at the surroundings, trying to determine if he was in the right place, only to groan slightly as the room spun around him Holding his head in place, Harry waited a moment before reopening his eyes. A whooshing noise sounded as someone else emerged from the fireplace and he looked to see a pair of large feet standing in front of him.

"I see the savior of the wizarding world is being his usual graceful self," Ron ribbed, as he stepped forward and offered his hand.

Harry accepted Ron's help with a slight smile and hoisted himself onto his feet grumbling good naturally. Harry looked around the room to see that he was not the only one with whom floo travel disagreed with; Hermione and Mr. Granger were bending over Mrs. Granger who seemed quite green in the face. She was trying to wave them away and stand, but her attempts were only halfhearted as she swayed dangerously on her feet.

The room itself appeared to be an ill-lit storage area of sorts. Most of the space was filled with boxes and old trunks, each overflowing with unrecognizable odds and ends. One entire wall was covered in shelves holding rows upon rows of misshapen vials and bottles with peculiar labels. To Harry's disgust, he spotted one marked 'Decayed Dementor Flesh,' which was an unnecessary redundancy in there ever was one. In a far corner, a large table stood covered and surrounded by varying scorch marks. Realizing that this room was probably a great indicator of the twin's bedroom at the Burrow, Harry felt a twinge of sorrow for the Weasley parents.

Harry turned and saw Moody standing near the door way with a sandy haired man at his side. Harry thought the stranger looked familiar but could quite place the man. As Mrs. Weasley bustled from person to person brushing of the remnants of soot from their clothing, Harry leaned forward and questioned Ron.

"Who's the bloke with Moody?"

Ron looked at him oddly and replied, "That's Charlie, of course."

"Charlie who?"

"Weasley, you know, my second old brother, likes dragons…" Ron rambled; now wearing an expression suggesting that Harry was several sickles short of a Galleon.

"Ron your er…brother has red hair."

"Of course, he does you dolt; just lo – oh."

Ron stared at the man in question with a look of puzzlement gracing his features. Harry was about to repeat his question with the man stepped forward and began motioning for everyone's attention. He tapped his wand to his face and muttered a phrase revealing the familiar visage of Charlie Weasley to both Harry and Ron's apparent surprise.

"How did you know…" Harry trailed off, as Ron gave a helpless shrug.

"All right, everyone, listen up," Charlie shouted over the noise. "We don't expect any problems today but we've several precautions in place just in case. I'll spare you lot the details so we can begin shopping."

Moody, stepping away from Charlie, pulled out a small velvet sack and began handing out some small objects. When he reached Hermione and her family, he paused and said something, which triggered a confused look to appear on the parents' faces, although Hermione nodded in understanding. Moody gestured at Hermione, apparently directing her to explain, and heaved himself towards Harry and Ron. As Moody approaching, Harry realized the Charlie was still talking and turned his attention back.

"If something does happen, you should immediately activate you portkey no matter the circumstances," he concluded in a stern voice.

"You weren't paying attention, boy," Moody barked from Harry's side. Before Harry could respond the older man shoved a small object into his hand. Opening his fist, Harry discovered a small flat silver ring with a tiny green stone embedded in the center. Twisting it between his finger in the light, Harry noticed several miniature symbols etched into the metal.

"These are the portkeys," Moody interrupted his scrutiny. "To trigger it just tap it with your wand and say 'Activate' or twist it three times counter-clockwise and say the same word. They portkeys only have enough magic in them for one person and one trip…remember that. A lot of effort was put into making these so don't s don't lose them"

Harry nodded his understanding mutely and slipped the ring onto the middle finger of his right hand. It resized to fit his finger snuggly and found it to be immovably fastened to the digit when he attempted to remove it a second later. Moody handed a ring to Ron and shuffled off muttering about overly accommodating old fools; Harry pondered on the odd collection of jewelry he was acquiring. He had never been much of a fan of jewelry himself, although he did think that Bill's dragon fang earring was fittingly cool; however, noting that he did not have much a choice on the matter dropped the issue from his mind.

Charlie grabbed the crowd's attention again by announcing that they could leave the store in about five minutes and should gather downstairs. Ron's interest sparked at the statement and he quickly grabbed Harry's arm and began pulling towards the stairwell.

"Come on, Harry," he whined, pulling harder on the sleeve in his hand. "You have to see the shop, its bloody brilliant."

Harry chuckled at Ron's enthusiasm and followed his mate down the steps, after the Grangers with Mrs. Weasley close behind. Halfway down Harry felt on odd sensation, akin to a cool mist, pass over his skin. He paused a moment and looked around in the dim light, but Mrs. Weasley gave him small push between his shoulder blades, so he continued moving and dismissed the feeling as his imagination.

The public part of the building was even darker than its upstairs counterpart, which was unusual considering. Treading carefully across the last few steps so as not to trip and send everyone in front tumbling into the darkness. Harry squinted his eyes as he tried to make out the shifting shadows. Just as he reached the final step, a burst of light and sound emerged from a large crowd of people with raised arms filled the room. Staggered back at the shock to his senses, Harry tripped on his heel and landed on his back against the stairs.

"Harry!" Someone shouted across the room. He looked up to see a large banner hanging above the peoples' heads scripted in swirling red and gold colors that read "Phoenix's Flame." A figure stepped in front of him and Tonks' heart-shaped visage swam into his view. To his alarm, she was sporting spiked fire red hair with sparkling gold tips. Noticing his attention, she patted her spikes delicately.

"Do you think it's too much?" she queried.

"Er…"

"I did it to match the decorations," she added, waving to the visible parts of the room.

"I, uh…see," Harry replied smartly, glancing around and noting that she did indeed compliment the surroundings.

"Well, come on," she continued, not at all put off with his disinterest. "We've been working our tails off to have this ready."

"Oh," Harry exhaled, a surge of comprehension hitting him. "Is this what everyone was working on yesterday?"

"Yep," Tonks admitted, giving him a wink, "No Death Eaters, just like I said."

Harry gave a small apologetic grin, which she returned easily and nudged him off the stairs. Harry nodded his thanks and walked to a corner where Ron and Hermione sat, the latter of whom was almost in tears she was so pleased.

"Oh Harry, can you believe," she whispered in excitement as he came near. "Mrs. Weasley told me donations have started coming in already. Someone anonymously donate 500 galleons! And we haven't even started advertising besides a few shops in Diagon Alley."

Harry smiled at her delight, also surprised that people were so willing to respond. The now large group dwindled in size over the next ten minutes until Moody hollered that everyone was in place.

"Hurry up," Ron replied immediately after, "We can see the shop properly later."

Ginny joined them at the door as they merged with the crowd on the street. The alley was less crowded that usual, making Harry wonder if the Order had anything to do with it or if people were being more cautious now that Voldemort's return had been publicized, but the amount of people out and about was still substantial.

"Just enough people blend in with," Ron announced peering at Moody, who was keeping an eye on the masses and his magical one fixed on them.

Moody grunted in agreement and swung his good eye to stare at Ron. Ron ears tipped pink under Moody's fleeting scrutiny and he squirmed uncomfortably until the ex-Auror turned away. Ron sighed loudly in relief, causing Hermione to glance his way questioningly.

"What! There's nothing wrong with me," Ron exclaimed before she could utter a word. "He just gives me the heebie-jeebies."

"I didn't say anything, Ron," Hermione informed him, with little scorn in her voice.

"Oh, well-" Ron deflated, losing his steam. "You were thinking it…probably."

Hermione eyed him warily but did not respond.

Remus and Tonks approached the threesome with Mrs. Weasley herding the Grangers behind them.

"So where are we off to first?" Remus asked.

Simultaneous shouts for quidditch and robes rushed from Ron and Ginny's lips.

"I need visit Gringott's before we go anywhere," Hermione put in over the competing voices and Harry nodded his agreement.

"Alright then," Remus concurred, "Why don't we go to the bank and then whatever shops are along the way afterwards?"

Everyone agreed with this arrangement so they turned down the street towards the largest building in sight, although Ron grumbled under his breath as Quality Quidditch Supplies would be near the end of their route.

As they entered through the bronze doors of the large white marble building, Harry was slightly surprised to remember that this was the first time he had done so since his second year. From then on Mrs. Weasley had taken on the added responsibility when she came to the alley for her children's needs.

Harry hopped in one of the many lines for the goblin tellers along with Mrs. Weasley, while Hermione and her parents stood in another shorter cue where they would directly exchange pounds for galleons. Harry had never discussed it with Hermione before but he guessed that since she did not have her own income she must not have any money actually deposited in Gringotts. Even though he knew only a little about goblins and even less about economics, Harry was pretty certain the exchange rate between pounds and galleons was probably atrocious.

Remus, Tonks, Ron, and Ginny settled on the benches lining the walls near the entrance or leaned against the walls themselves, as they waited for the others to gather their money.

The progress towards the teller window was slow, but Harry took the time to search his knapsack for the small golden key he had almost forgotten to bring. Just as he approached the goblin, Harry successfully pulled the key out of his trousers' pocket with relief.

"Key please," the goblin instructed.

Harry slid the little item across the counter and long spindly fingers plucked it into the air. The goblin examined the key meticulously for several minutes, glancing between it and Harry surreptitiously. After what seemed like an inordinate amount of time passed, the creature finally checked something in the logbook to his left and called another goblin over.

A goblin with black hair walked swiftly to the counter and without saying a word jerked him thumb in the direction of the carts. He tapped his foot impatiently until Harry climbed into one, and before Harry had a chance to get settled the little buggy took off. He was slung to the rear with a rough jerk and gasped at the suddenness of the motion. This goblin was nothing like Griphook, who had escorted him previously. Griphook had not gone out of his way to be friendly, but at least he was not outright rude.

The ride passed quickly and with a wrenching stop they arrived at vault 687.

"Be quick about it," the goblin demanded. "I haven't got all day to watch you wander about in there."

"Fine, fine," Harry muttered.

Not wanting to further irritate the goblin, and have an even worse ride back to the main lobby, Harry quickly scooped some money into his knapsack and returned to the cart. From the brief glimpse he caught of his vault, the gold did not seem to have decreased in the last five – at least, not that he could tell. Harry wondered how much he was actually worth.

The returning pace seemed even greater than before, and Harry held onto the sides of the cart with a death grip. He usually enjoyed these high speed excursions, but with the maniac at the helm he was beginning to understand why other people turned green at the thought of visiting Gringotts.

Back in the lobby, Harry quickly exited the cart and the goblin disappeared with a sneer on his face. Harry gladly walked to the corner where everyone was waiting. Neither Mrs. Weasley nor the Grangers had yet returned, so he joined the others leaning against the wall. Ron and Ginny were agreeing about where to shop first, and from what Harry could gather it was a battle between robes and quidditch.

"So, Harry," Tonks interrupted to his left, "do you know what you want to do once you graduate?"

"Er, I've been thinking about going into the Auror Academy, but I'm not sure anymore…"

"Why not? I've always enjoyed it."

"Well…" Harry paused, trying not to offend Tonks. "Aurors work closely with the Minister from what I understand, and he and I don't always see eye to eye."

"He's not always my favorite person either, but you don't have to be an Auror to be involved with current events. You dad didn't much like the Ministry but he managed."

"My dad? I thought you didn't know him…"

"Not personally, but I've been talking to Remus lately and he's told me some things. No one knows much about what James did, just his title. He was an Unspeakable."

Harry did not know what to say. His father had worked in the Department of Mysteries, which meant he probably knew about the prophecy before Dumbledore told them. Had he know what was happening?

"Your mother on the other hand was a healer, and a good one from what I've heard."

"No one ever told me," Harry murmured.

"I think most people assumed you already know," Tonks replied sheepishly. "We forget you were never able to find out."

"So what's an Unspeakable do? Mr. Weasley told me they work in the Department of Mysteries, but that's all I really know."

Harry had some guesses based on his unfortunate visit to the department, but no definite answers; especially about that veil…

"That's all most of us know. The Unspeakable don't report to anyone, not even the Minister, which has been a point of contention many times. However, from the rumors I've heard they research things that are considered unexplainable by both muggle and magical means and they do the dirty work for the Ministry. No questions asked. I've heard them compared to the muggle secret police."

Before Harry could respond, the rude black haired goblin approached them.

"Follow me," he ordered.

Harry glanced at Tonks, who shook her head slightly.

"May I inquire as to what necessitates Mr. Potter's attention?" Tonks asked politely. Harry noted that her hair was now a demure brown.

The goblin scowled, but responded in kind.

"There is an important matter that concerns Mr. Potter's assets. Immediate consideration is required."

Tonks shrugged and motioned for Harry to follow. She walked beside him until they reached a door labeled simply "gold transactions." Tonks attempted to follow Harry through the door, but the goblin stopped her.

"Only Mr. Potter is allowed to enter as this is personal business."

"Indeed," Tonks replied, standing her ground. "Unfortunately, Mr. Potter is not allowed to enter if I'm not with him…so you need to move."

It was obvious from Tonks' mocking tone that she too was becoming aggravated by this goblin.

"It is alright Szaguk, these security measures are understood," a voice interjected from the other side of the doorway.

Harry turned and was surprised to the see the goblin that had assisted him during his first trip to Grigotts.

"Griphook," Harry exclaimed accidently.

"I'm surprised you remember me, Mr. Potter. Most of your kind does not."

Shifting his attention to Tonks, Griphook said, "I apologize for Szaguk behavior, he has been somewhat temperamental as of late."

"I'll say he has," Tonks muttered under her breath.

Griphook frowned slightly, but continued as though he had not heard.

"I assume you are Mr. Potter's bodyguard?"

"Right in one," Tonks replied, giving the goblin a salute.

"I can assure you Mr. Potter will be secure within this walls. Your presence is not required."

"All the same, I think I'll stay."

Tonks walked further into the room and sat herself in one of the two armchairs in front of the desk where Griphook sat. The goblin's frown deepened as he watched her movements.

"If Mr. Potter does not mind…"

"I don't care," Harry countered with a shrug. He still did not have the foggiest what all this business was about.

"Very well…Mr. Potter I have requested this meeting in order to discuss the recent passing of one Sirius Orion Black. Due to this unfortunate circumstance, a large sum of gold has been transferred into your possession. There are two chief techniques in which to incorporate this amount into your current holdings. The first –"

"Wait," Harry interrupted Griphook's speech. "I don't want it."

Griphook looked up from a sheaf of paper and stared at Harry in concentration.

"Mr. Black informed us that you might feel this way. In the case, he instructed us to give you this letter."

_Harry,_

_ If you're reading this it means my will has been placed into effect and you are refusing to accept the terms. Blah, blah, blah…_

_Ignoring the formalities, I know you don't want or really need this money. However, Harry, I hope you will accept it. I am aware that James and Lily left you quite an adequate amount, but it won't last forever. It was the only way left to your parents to express their love, and I would like to do the same. Please accept this gift in remembrance of me. I haven't been able to use any of the money, so the Black family fortune has been sitting in the vault gathering dust. You can put it to good use. I gave Moony the same amount, so you're not getting special treatment. I also gave some to the Weasley's as well, but you can always add to that. Hint, hint…_

_Your Godfather,_

_Sirius_

Harry kept his head lowered as he read, so that no one would notice the tears brimming in his yes. He hated crying in front of anyone, but it seemed that every time Sirius' name was brought up he could not help it. Through this exchange, Tonks remained silent, but as he finished the letter, she placed her hand on his shoulder.

""This would have made him very happy, Harry. He was always upset that he couldn't be with you as much as you both wanted."

Harry gave a brief smile and nodded to Griphook. As Griphook continued his speech, Harry though of what he could do with the money. First of all, he would definitely give more to the Weasleys. He knew Sirius only mentioned that as an incentive for him to accept he money, but it was what he had wanted to do for a long time.

"Now, as I was saying," Griphook's words interrupted Harry's thoughts. "There are different choices on how to handle the money. One option is to combine it with your own holdings, but your current vault is not sizeable enough to accommodate the full amount, so a new high security would be in your best interest."

Harry's eyes widened at this statement as he thought his vault could still hold significantly more.

"Another option is to create a completely new value for the additional money. Do you have any preference as to which alternative we pursue," Griphook inquired shuffling through a think sheaf of papers.

"Could I put _all_ the money into a new vault that can hold everything but still keep my personal account separate from Sirius'?"

"That is very possible and would prevent you from paying the upkeep for two vaults. What type of security measures would you prefer for the new vault?"

"Er – what are my choices?" Harry responded clueless.

"Some of the more common protections include keys, such as the one you currently use, predetermined codes or passwords, and handprint or wand recognition. Some of the less common methods involve goblin identification, dragons, specific access times, and so. However, for your individual case, I would recommend detailed spell and wand identification, as you are now one of our most wealthy members."

"What exactly does that entail?" Harry requested surprised.

"To open the vault door without peril, a personally unique spell must be directed towards a predetermined symbol. Furthermore the wand is then placed into the door itself akin to a key. Only with this proper procedure can the vault be entered without unfortunate consequences."

"That's sounds like a good choice to me," Tonks interrupted. "We've had to investigate some incidents in the past concerning vault security but that seems like a reasonably secure system."

"You don't think it's too much?"

"Harry, it's pretty obvious that you've got enemies out there. This'll at least keep your belongings protected. In fact, it's too bad we can't lock _you_ up in there too."

Harry frowned out her joke and returned his attention back to the goblin.

"Alright then, what do you need me to do?"

"Typically, more than one symbol or rune is present to deter potential trespassers, so select any particular ones you would like to use. Additionally, you need to create the key spell. It generally takes our customers a few months to complete this process successfully. Until then, we will use standard security measures to ensure the safety of your vault."

"A few months? What am I supposed to do?"

Griphook looked up from the papers and glanced at Harry for a moment before turning his gaze to Tonks.

"I believe you may be more suited to explaining the process to him. If I recall correctly a typical Aurur's training covers this topic adequately enough."

Tonks looked surprised at this information and lowered her eyebrows slightly in response.

"Yes, we have some skills in the area but that information isn't generally known," she explained skeptically. Turning her attention to Harry she continued, "I, or someone else in the department, can explain the basics to you, which should be enough for this project."

"Alright, is there anything else I need to know?" Harry asked.

"The total fee for setting up the new vault and for implementing the security measures totals to…twenty nine galleons and fourteen sickles due along with your vault key upon the completion of the transfer. Additionally, we need your signature to finalize the contract. Do you have any further questions, Mr. Potter?"

"Not about the new vault, but can I figure how much money I have money I have altogether now?

This was something that Harry had been wondering for some time now but had not been sure how to determine.

"Would you prefer to sum only your personal account with Mr. Black's addition, or do you want to include the Potter family vault as well?"

"My family vault…?"

"Indeed, like many magical families, your parents reserved a separate vault for less liquid assets. However, you will not have complete access to that vault until you are of age. You may explore the contents if you so desire, but you cannot remove anything from the room."

Here was something else that Dumbledore, and several other people in face, were keeping from him. Wanting to exactly what was in his possession, Harry requested a list of everything in there as well.

"The inventory will cost an additional 5 galleons and 3 sickles, which brings you to an even 35 galleons. If you would sign this document we can complete this transaction."

Harry scanned the parchment, which stated exactly what he had asked for, so he quickly signed on the dotted line and passed it back to Griphook.

"As you are underage, we also need an adult to cosign to ensure that you were under no duress," Griphook added with a glance on Tonks. The woman in question quickly scribbled her name beneath Harry's without any hesitation.

"We should have the complete inventory of your assets by next week and will owl the results to your residence. Once you have completed the security measures for the new vault please visit us again."

"May I transfer money to another vault now?" Harry asked.

"If you would so desire. How much gold and to who would you like to transfer."

"Please double whatever amount Sirius gave to the Weasleys."

"Wait a minute Harry, that could be a lot of galleons," Tonks interrupted looking worried. Turing her attention to Griphook, "Isn't that too much for him to transfer?"

"Considering the entirety of Mr. Potter's wealth, he could make the transfer several times over and still live an extravagant life. Even by goblin standards, Mr. Potter does not need to concern himself with such matters."

"Thank you Mr. Griphook. This meeting has been especially helpful and enlightening," Harry said standing from his chair.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Potter. Helping a prestigious customer such as yourself is no trouble at all."

Harry and Tonks exited the room and saw the rest of their group waiting outside.

"There you two are!" Exclaimed Mrs. Weasley, "We were beginning to worry. Where have you been?"

"Just handling a little business with goblins," Tonks responded, shaking her head at Harry in slight disbelief.


	9. Smokescreen

_Thursday, July 11, 1996_

"Where do you need to go?" Remus asked the group.

Hermione, of course, wanted to visit Flourish and Blotts for books she wanted replaced. Ron argued that Quality Quidditch Supplies had to be first, since he need a new pair of Keeper gloves. However, in the end, Ginny's argument won.

After a bit of discussion, it was decided that they would finish the essential shopping first, and then depending on how much time and money remained they could have some fun. The group split up to save time. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley went to the second hand robe shop, while Mr. Weasley and the twins headed off discussing some issue about their store. Remus and Tonks joined Hermione, Ron, and Harry to stock up on supplies for their classes. Although just from looking at the groups, it did not seem that they much protection, but Harry knew Order members were protecting them from the shadows. It made it difficult to concentrate on the shopping, but he wanted to enjoy this time with his friends.

First they visited the Apothecary for potion's supplies, after which Hermione insisted on visiting the bookstore. Harry thought he might be able to find some books to help with his summer homework, so he agreed much to Ron's consternation.

Once in the store, they pulled the list of school books that had been included in there OWL results letter. Although, Harry was not sure of all the classes he would be taking he could still buy some of his books. The list included the books for all the 6th year classes offered at Hogwarts.

_NEWT Level Astronomy Theory, Standard Edition_

_Exploring the Heavens by Gwendolyn Fanfulton_

_NEWT Level Care of Magical Creatures Theory, Standard Edition_

_Monster Book of Monsters_

_NEWT Level Charms Theory, Standard Edition_

_Investigating an Intricate Aspect of Charming by Infrusa Dooglebee_

_NEWT Level Defense Against the Dark Arts Theory, Advanced Edition_

_Inside the Mind of the Dark Lords by Hazier Wharfendale_

_NEWT Level Divination Theory, Standard Edition_

_Clearing the Mists of the Futureby Ferula Bremstralung_

_NEWT Level Transfiguration Theory, Advanced Edition_

_Obscure Branches of Tranfiguration by Belinda Shevear_

_NEWT Level Potions Theory, Advanced Edition_

_Mystifying Inquires Concerning Sophisticated Potions by Zulu Xinger_

"Well, at least we've already got the Magical Creatures one…" Harry heard Ron mutter beside him.

They gathered all the necessary books and were soon sagging under the weight. Harry did not know what his extracurricular books were, so thankfully he did not have as many as either Hermione or Ron.

Harry had already searched the exclusive book collection at the Apothecary but had not found any useful selections about basilisks. It seemed Flourish and Blott's did not have any better options. Hermione was practically emanating joy, she was so proud harry was putting such thought into his summer assignments. She found many times for the potion's ingredient she was researching. Ron of course had not read the assignment instructions yet, so Hermione refused to share which ingredient she was using, so he could not copy it.

"So, Harry, are you going to take my advice and drop Divination?" Hermione asked in a hopeful tone.

"What!" Ron shouted. "You're going to leave me alone with that cow?"

"You know, you could drop it too," Harry suggested nonchalantly, scanning a row of books.

"What are you going to take instead? Everything else requires work."

"That's not a bad thing, Ronald," Hermione snapped. "Taking a real class means you actually learn something."

Ron began mutter about crazy girls who try to take every single class…

"I don't know yet," Harry interjected, before the two could start a real row, "But I'm thinking about Ancient Runes."

"Oh," Hermione said, slight disappointment coloring her voice. "I was hoping you would consider taking Arithmancy with me."

"I might, but I have this feeling Ancient Runes will be more useful."

Harry went on to tell them about the new vault he was creating, but said it was solely for security purposes and did not mention Sirius' will. They would find out soon enough.

Both of his friends were suitably impressed even if for different reasons. Hermione immediately because looking for some appropriate books and piled them into Harry's arms. Shocked by the amount, Harry convinced her to wait until he found out more details and just selected a couple of the tomes.

The total for all of the books seemed extravagantly high, but Harry simply handed over the money. However, Mrs. Weasley had only given Ron a small amount of money, and the cost of books was more than Ron had. Ron dug through his pockets looking for spare change, trying not to let his friends notice. He turned away from them as his face began to redden and Harry quickly slipped the man at the counter some change and gave him a hard stare. Hermione noticed his actions and gave him a grateful smile; Harry held his finger to his lips in response.

"Oh, I'm sorry young man," the man said to Ron. "It seems I miscalculated your total. You have just enough here."

Ron sighed in relief and grabbed his bag of books. The group headed back into the heat of the afternoon, and strolled along the shops.

"Where to now?" Ron eventually asked. "I'm getting rather kind of hungry."

Harry could tell that his friend was hoping they were done with the actual shopping.

"Does everyone have what they need for the school year?" Remus asked.

"I need new robes," Hermione said. "I'm afraid mine were all destroyed in the fire."

"Alright then, to Madam Malkin's."

At the robe shop, the assistant quickly set Hermione and Harry, ignoring his protestations, on stools for measurements. With a flick of her wand, tape measures began dancing around them recording their sizes.

Harry still found this process slightly disconcerting, especially as the sales clerk kept glancing at his scar and acting flustered.

"Alright," Madam Malkin said waving the measuring tapes away. "You both need new school robes. What else?"

Harry said nothing, but Hermione wanted a new dress robe as well. Ron groaned and complained about girls taking forever.

"Can't we leave yet?" Ron grumbled for what seemed the hundredth time.

Remus was about to reply calmly once again that they needed to stay together, when Tonks' interrupted from the window insisting that all the griping was grating on her nerves.

"Remus, take the boys to get some ice cream at Fortescue's and I'll stay here with Hermione until we're finished."

Remus considered this for a moment, taking in Harry's and Ron's utterly bored faces and the ever increasingly frustrated one on Hermione, before nodding his head in consent. Hermione attempted to convince them it was much too early in the day to take part in dessert, but she gave up quickly seeming to think unhealthy teeth were worth a few moments of relative peace.

The boys quickly exited Madame Malkin's with exuberance and meandered over to the ice cream parlor. Harry had not enjoyed any sort of sweet since he left Hogwarts (his chocolate frog stash was suspiciously missing from his trunk) and Ron never needed an excuse to indulge in any type of food.

Florean Fortescue himself was behind the counter when they entered the shop, as he had been the summer Harry spent two weeks enjoying himself in Diagon Alley. Mr. Fortescue greeted them warmly and tried to give Harry a free sundae as he had done before, but Harry insisted that he wanted to try something new and as such should pay.

Harry ended up with a safe, by wizarding standards, but delicious combination of flavors, including peanut butter and chocolate ice cream and something marvelous that he could not identify; while Ron chose a more interesting medley of tastes that contained raspberry ice, lime sorbet, and pistachio nuts. Remus declined to indulge in a cold treat, in agreement with Hermione's protestations at least for his own mouth, although he appeared happy enough just watching Harry and Ron enjoy themselves.

Ron had already consumed his decidedly large portion of ice cream, and Harry was one his last bite even though there was still a good but left in the bottom of his bowl, when the three of them were joined by the other half of their group. The ladies still declined to buy ice cream, although they reserved the right to do so later in the day – after lunch perhaps. Tonks stole Harry's spoon from his hand to scoop out a dollop of his treat; she decided his tastes were too lackluster.

"Personally, I favor Flaming Passion Fruit," she informed them, "Now that's stuff got a kick."

Everyone made a slight face as they imagined exactly what this so-called 'flaming' dessert might entail; although, Ron looked as though he might consider trying it. As they made their way to the next store front, Harry mistakenly wondered if the parlor served alcoholic ice cream but decided that was too bizarre even for the wizarding populace.

Remus led the way down the alley with Tonks bringing up the rear of the group. As Harry looked around at the different stores, he thought he caught glimpse of Order members he recognized but with the milling crowd it was hard to be sure. Just a little past noon the group finally walked down the street towards, to Ron's delight, Quality Quidditch Supplies. Harry noted with pride, even from the distance, that the Firebolt was prominently displayed in the front window.

"Seems like a lot of effort on the Order's part just for a trip to Diagon Alley," Harry commented during a lull in conversation.

"Dumbledore's probably doing it for you Harry," Hermione responded after a pause.

"What? No, the charity-"

"Oh, that's charade, and I appreciate it greatly; however, I think he's trying to make up for sending you back to the Dursleys'."

Ron nodded in agreement and Harry felt his shoulders slump in frustration.

"Well, if he thinks this'll make me go back, he's-"

"Don't worry mate, we're with you." Ron declared, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

They were almost upon the quidditch store and Ron eagerly picked up his pace to dart ahead of the group.

"Ron!" Tonks called out sharply. "Stay with the group."

"Do you smell something," Hermione mumbled, placing her sleeve against her nose.

Harry glanced around and noticed that contrary to before, no one was in this part of the Alley.

"Ron!" Harry called out, gesturing for Ron to turn back.

Ron either did not hear or just did not care, which proved to be a drastic mistake.

Just as Ron reached for the handle to enter the shop, the stationary store to the side of the building exploded into the street.

The first thing Harry noticed was the acrid smell of smoke filling the air. Opening his eyes slowly, Harry saw that he was several meters away from the spot he had been standing merely moments before and that Diagon Alley was now complete pandemonium. Burnt wood was scattered everywhere, along with cobblestone and dirt from the street. Small bits of paper were fluttering down in front of him from what had been the stationary store.

Harry shifted into a sitting position and felt long scratches down his back from where he had slid across the pavement after the explosion. Luckily, that seemed to his only injury. Patting his sides gently, Harry found his wand still in his pocket and thanked Merlin for that bit of luck.

Moans of pain filled the air but with the air so think with smoke, he caught only the occasional glimpse of silhouettes running through the street. Unfortunately, he quickly noticed that several of these shadows were wearing long black coats and white masks.

Another explosion sounded off to the right, and Harry threw his arms over his head as more debris rained down around him. Once the pummeling stopped, Harry lowered his arms and coughed slightly from the new dust and smoke. The smoke was extraordinarily thick, in fact it seemed abnormally so; it would appear the Death Eaters were planning ahead during attacks.

Harry tried to make out his surroundings and saw that he was partially hidden in the doorway of a building that he guessed was across the street from the quidditch supplies store. He desperately wanted to call out to his friends to make sure they were okay.

Suddenly the air seemed to clear somewhat and Harry could see fuzzy shapes in all directions. His immediate thought was thought he must have lost his glasses, but he could feel them sitting on his nose. He spotted a flash of orange almost directly in front of him but several feet away.

As the smoke continued to disperse, Harry could see the trails of spells flashing through the air and heard new shouts of fear and anger fill the air. Harry attempted to struggle to his feet, but several people came running out of the haze and paused beside his hiding place. He crouched further into the debris; over the sounds of screams and crashes he could barely make out the voices of several people talking.

"Remember, stick to the arrangement. Find the targets first," said a strangely familiar voice.

"The smoke screen was a bad idea, we can't see anyone."

"If you had bothered to learn the _Vanare Fumus_ spell, that wouldn't matter."

"Break it up," ordered a new voice. "Just follow your orders and kill anyone gets in the way."

Harry lay perfectly still as he waited for the group to movie, all the while wondering what had happened to the Order members who were supposed to be out there. Finally, the small group separated and spread out into the alley beyond Harry's sight.

Before anyone else could stumble upon his temporary hiding spot, Harry crawled out and started sprinting into the street hunkered down. Several feet in front of him Harry saw a flash of red hair low to the ground and felt a knot form in his stomach. He hurried forward dodging a couple of stray spells emerging from the lingering smoke; he was wary to return the curses for fear of alerting the enemy to his presence.

Suddenly he tripped over something lying in the street and ended up sprawled on his back once more. Harry turned and saw a body with a mop of shaggy red hair lying motionlessly across from him.

"Ron," Harry whispered urgently, reaching over and shaking an arm, "Ron, please don't be dead. Wake up!"

Harry was reminded forcefully of the night he found Ginny in a similar position over three years ago. Except this time, his friend's face was smeared with blood and his leg was lying at an abnormal angle from the rest of his body.

Slowly, Ron gave low groan and cracked a blood-caked eye open to gaze blankly at Harry.

"Thank Merlin," Harry whispered in relief. "We have to move, Ron, can you walk?"

"Harry," Ron slurred brokenly, not seeming quite with the moment. "Need….key."

"Key? What key?"

Ron's gaze slipped from Harry's face and seemed to focus on something over his head.

"Behind you," he barely whispered.

Harry turned so quickly he slipped from his crouch and onto his bum. A Death Eater was standing almost directly behind him. Harry saw with confusion that the wand was pointed not at him but to the immobile form of his friend. Without another thought quickly shouted _Stupefy_ and watched the Death Eater fall to the ground.

"Come on, Ron. We have to move _now._"

"Can't…"

Harry kneeled, grabbed Ron around the waist, and tried to stand, but his friend gave such a shout of pain that he immediately stopped.

The sounds of fighting were growing ever closer to them, and Harry was worried that if they didn't move the Death Eaters would soon be upon them. Ron grasped Harry's sleeve and tugged to get his attention back.

"You…portkey."

"Of course," Harry muttered, almost hitting himself aside the head for his stupidity.

Ron's hand fell away and Harry watched him gasp on the ground from the pain. Harry took Ron's hand and reached to activate the ring they had been given to act portkey. To his horror, the middle finger upon which Ron had worn the ring was gone along with most of the rest of his fingers. He stared insensibly for moment trying to clear his head and keep his stomach where it belonged. Harry grabbed his own portkey and attempted fruitlessly to yank the ring from his own finger; instead, he placed his shaking hand against Ron's arm so the band connected with his bare skin.

"It'll take us both," he whispered brokenly.

The sounds of battle grew significantly louder to Harry's right, and he saw Mrs. Weasley shouting spells while herding the Granger parents to a storefront. As Harry watched, Mr. Granger caught a spell in the arm and fell to a knee. Hermione appeared at her parents' sides suddenly and slipped the portkey off of her wrist.

She held the bracelet out to them, but Harry noticed a streak a purple light streaking towards the back of Hermione head. He tried to call out to her, but his voice would not carry over all the noise. The instant the spell should have impacted with Hermione, a glow appeared around her form and the spell rebounded. However, he could see no one close enough to cast the defensive spell. For a moment, Hermione's eyes caught and she stared at him horror before the family abruptly disappeared in a swirl of smoke.

Harry's attention was brought back to his own situation when he felt another tug on his shirt.

"…too weak," Ron whispered, trying to push Harry's hand away from his arm.

A pair of hands unexpectedly yanked Harry to his feet before he could respond, and Harry found himself staring into the grizzly face of Mad-eye Moody.

"Active your portkey now!" Moody shouted in the bedlam.

"But Ron – "

"Now, Potter!"

Moody grabbed Harry's arm to activate it himself when Harry noticed a green light racing towards them. He pulled Moody to the ground just as the old man was doing the same to him. The two wizards scrambled back to their feet, Moody at a surprisingly quick pace.

Harry looked around to see large numbers of black robes converging on their position even as they fought with many faces he recognized and a few he did not. Another spell raced towards them and Harry quickly erected a shield.

"_Protego_," Harry shouted, attempting hold back some the barrage of lights flowing towards them. He was not going to leave his friend to die on the street.

He was trying to recall the list of shields he had found in the book just the other, but his mind was drawing a large blank. Plus, even if he could remember them, he was not sure it would be smart to use them for the first time in open battle.

As the spells kept coming, Harry tried to start throwing some offensive spells, mostly stunners, but he was quickly tiring. The stunners did not permanently take out his opponent but at least it stopped them until they were revived. Harry noticed that most of the spells coming towards him were meant to incapacitate, not kill; apparently, he was one of the intended targets.

Over the sounds of shouted spells, Harry could hear the calls of several people telling him to use the portkey. Harry felt the effects of a cutting and burning spell nick his arm and leg. Someone jumped in front of him and took the full force of bludgeoning spell in the chest and landed immobile on the ground. He wanted to pause and see of the person was alright, but the spells would not stop. Grasping that he was possibl6 more a hindrance in the fight than a help, Harry knew he should listen to the Order members.

Making his way back to Ron, who was now lying a few feet away, Harry caught a freezing spell on his non-wand hand. Harry gasped in pain at the shock of it, but doggedly continued towards his friend. To his horror a masked figure was bending over Ron and had a hand across his mouth. Ron's eyes were wide in fright and he was meekly trying to shift away from the Death Eater. A handed snaked out of the person's sleeve and Harry saw a glint of silver in the light of a passing spell.

"Wormtail," Harry hissed between his teeth, seething in rage at the sight of this parents' old friend.

Pettigrew looked up in surprise, but grinned defiantly when he saw Harry only steps away. He quickly laid a length of rope against Ron's bare arm and held the tip of his wand against it.

Realizing what was about to happen, Harry jumped the remaining distance between them and caught a fold of Ron's robe in his hand. Without warning, a solid force slammed into the side of his body yanking the cloth from his fingertips. Harry watched in horror as Ron disappeared before his eyes, taken away by the portkey in Wormtail's hand. A moment later Harry collided with a wall behind him and pain burst into his head centered around his scar. Someone grasped his hand, he felt a hook behind his navel, and was lost in a whirlwind of blackness.


	10. Familial Ties

_Friday, July 12, 1996_

Upon coming to, Harry immediately leaned over the side of the bed he was lying on and lost the contents of his stomach. His throat was parched and there was the distinct taste of a foul potion lingering in his mouth. Shaking from exhaustion, Harry remained on his back and tried to figure out where he was.

Lumpy mattress, thin sheet, no pillow…Harry opened his eyes, looked at his surroundings, and sighed.

"Number 4 Privet Drive."

Harry sighed again and sat up dejectedly and wondered why this came as a surprise to him – and suddenly he remembered.

Diagon Alley…the explosion…Death Eaters…_Ron_

Harry jumped from the bed but had to lean against the wall as he was assaulted with a dizzy spell. Once he regained his bearings, Harry realized he was only wearing a thin pair of pants that reminded him of the pajamas from the hospital wing and that all of his muscles felt extremely sore. Not caring in the slightest, Harry sprinted out the door and down the stairs.

Harry did not know what he expected the see downstairs, but he should not have been surprised that the Dursley calmly going about their usual evening routine. Dudley and his father were watching the news on the telly, the former of whom looked utterly bored; while Aunt Petunia was producing cooking sounds from the direction of the kitchen.

Harry stood in the doorway of the sitting room shirtless, staring blankly at his relatives, wondering what the bloody hell was going on. Dumbledore could not have sent him back here after everything that had just happened – it did not seem possible.

At that moment, Vernon realized Harry lingering just outside the room and grunted in surprise.

"You're awake," Vernon mumbled squinting in Harry's direction.

Dudley's eyes widen at the sight of his cousin and his face showed a mix of indiscernible emotion: confusion and worry evident in the mix.

"Get in here, boy."

After a moment's hesitation, in which Harry glanced beseechingly at the front door, he stepped cautiously into the room.

"Sit down."

Harry perched gently on the arm of the couch farthest from his uncle and watched the man carefully. Despite what Remus and Dumbledore might say, there was not a chance he was going to give his uncle the benefit of a doubt.

"Those…people said you would not wake up until tomorrow," he uncle started after a few tense seconds of silence.

Harry shrugged noncommittally, wincing at the soreness still lingering in his muscles.

"The tall one with the absurdly long beard, Bumblebee or some such nonsense–"

"Dumbledore," Harry corrected automatically. He would have smiled if he was not so worried about what was going on.

"Yes, well," Vernon continued a little put off, "that man said that I have been…well, he…"

Vernon trailed off and Harry watched as his uncles face began to purple. For once it appeared it was not out of anger though, at least, not at Harry.

"He said someone used a potion on Dad," Dudley finally butted in.

Harry turned sharply to his cousin in surprise and stared at him in bewilderment. Someone gave his uncle, the greatest of all muggles, a potion? Why? How? Wasn't Privet Drive supposed to be the safest place for him? Harry abruptly stood and began pacing the room; he felt caged. This was not supposed to happen. It was the whole reason Harry was forced to stay here in the first place.

Finally, Harry paused in his gait and turned to Vernon, "Why?"

Vernon looked thoroughly flustered. His mouth was opening but no words were coming out. Harry looked to Dudley but he seemed just as confused.

"It was supposed to mimic one of the Unforgivable Curses," Petunia whispered behind Harry in the doorway.

Harry turned to see his aunt standing with an apron around her waist, clutching a dish towel and wooden spoon. For the second time of his life, Harry Potter was glad that Aunt Petunia was his mother's sister.

"I don't remember the name."

"Impetuous or something," Dudley said.

"Imperious,' Harry breathed, nearly falling into his seat.

Harry was dismayed to realize that Voldemort had managed to reach even here, and at how much that explained. It gave a reason for why his uncle had turned so violent so suddenly. But how had Voldemort managed this? He was not supposed to be able to harm Harry or his relatives as long has he stayed here at the house. The blood protection was supposed to shield him against that. But Voldemort had Harry's blood, he realized with a gasp.

"They didn't really give us any details," Dudley interrupted his thoughts.

"It's a mind-controlling curse, if you can't fight it," Harry explained glancing at his uncle.

For once Vernon was not looking at Harry with disgust or contempt, but he could not tell if the man's face was filled with interest or horror.

"Why is it unforgivable?" Dudley continued.

"Because if it's strong enough, the spell can make you do anything. Attack someone…even kill them…" Harry trailed off, looking at his bare feet against the carpet.

No one said anything for almost a minute and then Vernon got up and walked out of the room. Harry could hear him walk up the stairs and slam the door to his bedroom. Aunt Petunia fairly slumped in the chair Vernon had just vacated.

Harry looked up to see that his aunt and cousin seemed to in shock. Their relationship was not built to handle catastrophes of this sort and Harry was not sure how they were going to manage. More than likely, he was probably about to be kicked out of the house.

"Isn't-isn't this why Dumbledore insisted that you stay here?" Petunia finally asked, "To be protected from that madman?"

Harry nodded mutely, not really sure how to explain to his aunt that the protection was apparently failing.

"Did Dumbledore say anything else about what happened," Harry asked, trying to return to the reason he came downstairs in the first place.

Dudley and Aunt Petunia both glanced at him momentarily before she responded.

"He said to tell you that they were making every effort to find your friend."

Harry almost lost his breath when he realized that the Death Eaters really had taken Ron. He had wanted to believe it was all a nightmare.

"I have to get out of here. I need to speak with someone from the Order," Harry said desperately, standing from the couch.

His relatives watched as Harry began pacing the room frantically, running his hands through his hair several times. How could Dumbledore have let this happen? They were supposed to be safe!

"He said I should tell you that the rest of your friends are alright and that someone would stop by later today."

"THAT"S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" Harry yelled into this aunt's face.

He backed off quickly, but Petunia's face froze with her mouth slightly open she was so shocked at his outburst. After a moment she regained her composure.

"I'm sure they're doing everything-"

"You don't understand," Harry shout again, waving his arms around slightly. "They're using Ron to get to _me_. They're probably torturing him _now_."

Harry had to stop because his throat choked up and he could not continue. Dudley had gasped in surprise and was still surprised at his outburst; his aunt looked like she wanted to say something but did not know what.

Harry fell to his knees in despair. "They'll kill him," he whispered brokenly, "Just like they killed Sirius."

And Harry's walls fell.

All of the tears, he had wanted to cry for his godfather but could not, escaped. All of the pent up anger and sadness over Cedric's death, the frustration he felt because he could not protect his friends, and the fear that he would not be able to defeat Voldemort burst from within him.

Harry felt all of these suppressed emotions come to the surface and could not control them his sobs. Thin arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders and Harry clutched desperately onto the person holding him, not caring in the slightest who the person was as long as they did not let go.

Harry awoke for the second time that day on the couch surrounded by in the smell of kidney and steak pie. It was dark outside again…he had managed to sleep the rest of the day away. Not feeling particularly hungry, Harry walked outside and sat on one of the stairs leading to the front door. The Order member that was supposed to be watching was not visible, but he figured that was probably for the best – best not to scare the neighbors, although it did not make Harry feel any more secure.

Harry was feeling slightly abandoned considering that no one had even tried to make contact with him since he was forcefully returned to this…_place_. What did it matter that his uncle had been under some sort of _Imperious_? Obviously none of them were safe here.

Standing up abruptly, Harry paced the small strip of sidewalk trying to vent his frustration. Why was Dumbledore not moving him…moving the entire family? Voldemort had found a way around the house's defenses, so why was nothing happening? He did not know if Ron or anyone else was safe, captured, or…worse.

"Is anyone out here," Harry called out just slightly above a whisper. Glancing around no one magically appeared behind the bushes, so Harry felt slightly moronic for talking to the wind. Figuring he might as well let his pride blow away with it, he spoke a little louder.

"Hello? I know you're supposed to be here, anyone there? Oh, bugger it: OY!"

"Harry, be quiet!" an urgent whisper sounded at his side. "You're attracting too much attention."

"Who's there," Harry murmured back, waving slightly to Mrs. Number 5 who was now glaring at him suspiciously from her living room window.

"It's Bill. I'm not supposed to let anyone know I'm here."

Heedless of the warning, Harry blundered on, "What happened? Are Ron and the others alright? I saw–"

"Go back into the house," Bill interrupted, covering Harry's mouth with an invisible hand. "I'll follow you."

The paranoia he seemed to have developed of late kicked in, albeit rather belatedly. Harry paused before following the command.

"How do I know it's you?"

"Griphook, the first goblin who led you to your vault, was impressed that you remembered is name during your last visit and asked me to thank you. Now move, Harry."

Satisfied for the time being, Harry walked up the steps and held the door in place until he felt Bill brush past him.

"Harry, you have to be more careful than that," Bill admonished, slipping the cloak off his shoulders. "You don't know who else may be watching."

"How am I supposed to know? No one's bothering to tell me anything. My best friend is missing and nobody seems to give a damn!"

In the silence that followed, Harry noticed that although Bill's voice was strong, eyes were slightly red-rimmed and there were deep lines creasing his forehead. As he watched, those lines became furrows as Bill sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Despite the man's haggard appearance, Harry felt his anger escalate.

"Harry," Bill whispered, "He's my brother too."

That simple statement deflated his anger more effectively than any argument could have. His frustration was still present beneath the surface of his emotions, but for the moment it was quelled.

Harry gestured to the sitting room and they both claimed one of empty seats.

"We're doing everything we can to find him. We will get him back."

"I…I know," Harry sighed in dejection. "It's just I want to help…to do something – anything."

"We all feel that way right now, but the best thing you could possibly do to help us is to stay inside this house and not do anything rash. You-know-who captured Ron to get to you, and we can't let that happen."

Harry turned his face away at the statement. From listening to Bill, one would think as long as Voldemort did not get his claws on Harry then nothing else mattered.

"Please, Harry, we can't let him win."

"Ron isn't some – some sacrificial chess piece!" Harry shouted, seeing the image of Ron surrendering himself on the gigantic chess board from their first year in his mind all too clearly. He was on his feet panting without even realizing it.

"Don't you think I know that!" Bill shouted right back, although he kept his seat. "Don't you think I know their just using _my little brother_?"

Silenced filled the air.

"Listen," Bill said quietly. "This isn't anyone's fault .Right now we just need to focus on getting him back and keeping you safe. We're not sure how secure the protections on your relative's are right now and we can't risk any mishaps."

Harry nodded dumbly and retook his seat; barely listening as Bill continued talking. Instead, his mind was filled with the memory of Snape's warning at Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore had at least suspected how vulnerable the Dursleys' household was, but the Order had done nothing to protect it.

Snape, of all people, was the only one who had shown active interest in making sure he was safe in Privet Drive. Of course Harry knew that his friends cared for him, but they could not sway Dumbledore's decisions – they could not even practice magic for now. Even Remus, who had made promises to him, had failed – evident in the fact that Harry was staring a hole in the floorboard of Number 4 Privet Drive instead of Grimmauld Place.

"Then what I am doing here," Harry interrupted ignorant of whatever statement Bill was giving just now. He received a blank stare in return.

"Why am I at Dursleys' _now_ if it's not safe for me or them? Why hasn't Dumbledore ordered me to move yet?"

"For now, Professor Dumbledore still believes this to be the safest place for you."

All the reasons Harry had for no longer trusted his headmaster were filling his mind. Dumbledore had given his word that Harry would no longer be left in the dark, but once again the old man was too slow and too late. If Dumbledore had simply acted faster then, Sirius might still be alive, Uncle Vernon could have never have attacked him, and Ron would not be captured and quite possibly dead.

His anger was threatening to force itself to the surface once again and Harry could see the objects on the mantle start shaking slightly. However, Ron's older brother did not deserve to feel the brunt of Harry's anger and frustration. Harry forcefully tried to dampen his emotions, but he had little success. Wasn't he too old for this kind of display?

"Harry!" Bill's sharp voice caught his attention.

Harry glanced at Bill and saw him looking warily around the room. Bill turned back to Harry and confusion and even some fear flickered through his eyes.

"Calm down or you're going to scare your relatives."

Harry nodded slowly and closed his eyes. Upstairs he heard his cousin shout earthquake and knew things were getting out of hand.

"Focus on the sound of my voice. Remember where you are. Nothing here is going to hurt you, there's nothing to be afraid of."

Apparently Bill thought the magic was due to his fear of Voldemort or something, but the distraction was enough for to calm down. The room stopped shaking and everything came back into focus.

"Has that been happening a lot lately?" Bill asked after a moment.

"Accidental magic?" Harry wondered. "No, this is the first time in years."

Bill did not respond but simply looked at Harry curiously as though he was one of his cryptic Egyptian mysteries. After several seconds, during with Harry squirmed uncomfortably, Bill continued.

"Professor Dumbledore should be arriving soon; hopefully, with some news."

Harry gave a short nod of acceptance. Even if he felt like yelling at someone right now, Bill did not have the answers he was seeking nor did he deserve it.

"How are you feeling? You got grazed by some nasty curses during the fight. Madam Pomphrey was able to heal everything, but you weren't supposed to wake up for another day or so."

Harry remembered his uncle mentioning the same thing early in the day. Madam Pomphrey must have done a really good job healing him because Harry had all but forgotten about getting hurt during the battle. He did not even feel exhausted like he usually did after a fight.

"I'm fine," Harry finally replied. "Just worried."

Bill sighed and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "We all are, but we're doing everything we can."

"How did they know to attack Diagon Alley just then? We weren't there long enough for them to organize something of that scale."

"We're not sure. We had detectors in place to recognize the Dark Mark no matter how it was hidden. They may be using unmarked followers, but our sources say otherwise, and that would be very unusual for Voldemort."

That left an obvious option that neither of them was willing to admit out loud.

"Here," Bill said, "We found this last night. I thought you might want to hang onto it."

Bill handed Harry at wand. Looking at it in confusion, it took a moment for Harry to realize it was Ron's.

"He doesn't even have his wand," he asked, his expression pained.

"No, but that might be for the best. They would have taken it from him anyway."

It was always better to have some protection. There was a chance that if he had his wand, Ron might be alright. Without it, he was basically helpless; they all were. The thought reminded Harry that he needed to learn self-defense, the kind that did not require a wand.

Without another word, Bill threw the cloak over his shoulders and presumably returned to his post outside.

This was why Harry dreaded summer holidays with a passion. Not just because he had the pleasure of spending several months with the Dursleys, but because he was disconnected from the wizarding world. No matter what efforts, or lack thereof, Dumbledore and the Order made to help him feel included, in truth he was out of the loop and out of luck. His friends were being attacked simply because he cared about them, and there was nothing he could do about it.

This was why he needed to learn how to defend himself properly – so he could participate fully in the Order, instead of being a childish liability forced to hide in a so-called safe house. However, of course, there was still the habitual ban on magic for the summer term.

Sighing in frustration, Harry picked himself up off the couch and dragged his feet to the smallest bedroom in the residence. He could not practice the spells themselves, but he could still study the theory and memorize the corresponding wand movements. Gathering the books from his trunk he had ordered last week, Harry spread the selection across his desk. The list of spells he had created previously was still folded in one of the larger tomes, so he set himself to remembering the shield charms.

For several hours, Harry studied the spell incantations and movements, seeking to understand them as if he had actually practiced them with his wand. Occasionally he added a spell from one of the defensive texts that might prove helpful in a fire fight. It was some time later that Harry's concentration was interrupted by a knock on the door and a call that dinner was ready.

At the dining table, Harry found Vernon and Dudley already shoveling food into their mouths. Petunia quickly placed a plate with a comparatively decent amount of food in front of Harry before taking a seat herself. The meal was eaten in near silence except for the scraping and scratching of forks and knives.

As Petunia placed a lemon crème pie smothered in whipped topping onto the table (it seemed apparent that Dudley's diet from the previous summer was completely abandoned – nothing like a life threatening situation to end a diet), a knock sounded from the front door. Looking disgruntled, Vernon glanced in the direction of the disturbance and grunted in annoyance. Petunia quickly went to answer the door before the bell could sound.

A short muffled conversation ensued in the entry hall before Harry heard more than one pair of footsteps returning.

"Thank you, Petunia, I would adore some lemon crème pie," a voice sounded from the hallway.

Petunia entered the dining room with her lips pursued tightly, her eyes fixed on the pie in the center of the table. She grabbed the knife and clasped it tightly in her fist for a few moments, before slicing a small sliver of the pie and dropping it abruptly onto a spare plate. After placing the dessert in the seat farthest from Vernon, she returned to her seat and resumed eating without looking up even once.

To Harry apprehension, it was the headmaster who calmly took the seat at the head of the table.

"One of my favorites," Dumbledore said, savoring a small bite

Harry glanced at his uncle, who was ignoring his own decadent piece of pie and staring at Dumbledore with a mixture of horror and fury.

"How dare you," Vernon snapped, knocking his chair to the ground. "_How dare you_ enter my home and endanger my family."

Dumbledore evenly placed his fork on the side of the plate and steepled his fingers slightly in front of his chin before responding.

"I must express how deeply sorry I am for the unfortunate experience you were forced to endure. We are doing our best to rectify the situation. If there is anything at all…" he finished with a small wave of his hand.

Vernon's eyes nearly popped from his head as he listened impatiently.

"I was violated and you think you can just sweep it under the rug with a few apologies! I want you people out of my house and out of my _life_."

Harry watched the transaction with wary eyes, but remained silent. It was not every day he had the unique experience of watching someone, especially a muggle, stand against a wizard as powerful as the headmaster. And for once, Harry felt inclined to agree with the muggle. Dumbledore had made many promises and they were all starting to unravel.

Dumbledore gave a small sigh, but before he could begin Vernon interrupted again.

"The boy can stay if he must, but I don't want any of the rest of your entering here ever again."

Only the sound of heavy breathing filled the air as Dumbledore gazed pensively into each of their eyes.

"Mr. Dursley, there is one option that has not been mentioned yet. We have the…ability to remove the memories of the incident from your own mind and those of your family. This is a standard procedure to alleviate the anxiety sometimes created when…normal people are exposed to our world."

"No!" Harry shouted, now on his feet as well. He was not going to let the Headmaster make it seem as though nothing had occurred. "They have the right to know what's happening. They may not understand, but otherwise it could just happen again."

"Now that we are aware of the possibilities you have my assurance that such an event will not occur again," Dumbledore spoke mostly to the Dursleys, but spared a sharp glance for Harry.

Harry neither spoke again nor sat back down. After all that had happened, he was not about to blindly trust the old man again.

Seeing expressions of horror and mistrust on the faces of the Dursleys, Dumbledore sighed and lowered his gaze to his fingers.

"Very well, I and my associates will refrain from entering the premises except under dire circumstances."

Vernon gritted his teeth visibly, but gave an abrupt nod and plopped back into his chair. Without another glance towards the wizard he began eating his dessert in silence. Whatever he believed, Vernon seemed frightened enough by the situation to except Dumbledore's proclamation. Petunia, frozen with your fork in hand, seemed to take this as a sign and relaxed her stiff posture slightly. Dudley remained gripping the edges of his seat and stared at his slice of pie.

"Since you are already standing, Mr. Potter, would you show me the way out?"

Harry nodded stiffly and walked to the hallway. The last thing he wanted was a private conversation with Dumbledore, but he did have a few questions that needed answering.

"You seem to have recovered well enough."

Ignoring the observation, Harry asked, "Sir, about Ron, do you know anything…"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "As of this moment we are not sure of Mr. Weasley's fate. But rest assured that we are doing everything conceivable to retrieve him safely."

Harry closed his eyes briefly, but continued while Dumbledore was still answering his questions. "What about Diagon Alley? Was anyone else hurt or – killed?"

"Five people died, none of whom you knew; three by the killing curse and two due to the debris…but it could have been much, much worse. Having so many operatives already in place prevented many fatalities. Many Death Eaters were stupefied before the attack even began; although no one is taking credit. The single-mindedness with which the Death Eaters attacked also inhibited them from doing as much harm as they might have."

"At least there is one advantage of Voldemort targeting me so aggressively," Harry thought miserably.

"Harry," Dumbledore said gravely, facing Harry directly as they reached the door. "I must ask that you not leave this house. You _must_ remain indoors at all times. Voldemort is waiting for you to do something rash and we must not allow him that victory."

Harry desperately wanted to protest his imprisonment, but these words echoed those that Bill had spoken only a few hours earlier. As if the Dursley did not hate him enough, now he could not even escape to the park. Clenching his jaw, Harry simply nodded not trusting his voice.

"Good, good," Dumbledore responded seeming suddenly distracted. "Now, I really must be going. Tell your aunt the pie was delicious."

As Dumbledore turned, Harry blurted, "Sir, I want…I need to do _something_. I can't just sit around doing nothing when I know Ron is in danger."

Dumbledore twisted his head around, his eyes suddenly sharp against Harry's. They stared at one another for a long moment.

"I will send Remus around tomorrow, perhaps you can help him," Dumbledore replied, his gaze softening slightly.

As Dumbledore left, Harry stared at the door in frustration. Great, not only was he forced to stay in the house, but now he even got a babysitter. He should know to just stay quiet; now there was one less person to help search for Harry. Why could they not just let him help? Even going to Grimmauld Place where he could get updates would be better than sitting around this place. With nothing to do, Harry returned to his bedroom.

Around 8:30pm a knock sounded from the door and Dudley poked his head in.

"Huh," Harry said in way of greeting. He had been staring at the same page of his book for the last hour unable to focus, so even his cousin was a welcome distraction.

"Hey…" Dudley said slowly, easing the door open. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," he shrugged, jerking his head towards the bed. Some sort of confrontation seemed inevitable; they could at least start on conciliatory terms.

Dudley sat down heavily on the edge of the mattress, which sagged greatly anyway, and took a deep breath through his nose. Harry was once again struck by how odd the Dudley seemed to be acting. Dudley had apparently gained some self-control during the school year and had lost a significant amount of weight; although by no means could he be called thin…maybe athletic…sort of. After a few more seconds of awkward silence, Dudley finally spoke.

"I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions. They didn't explain much to us yesterday."

Harry did not respond, but just kept watching Dudley. It surprised him that his cousin, the rhabdophobe, would ask directly about the m-word.

"I want to know why this is happening…why is some insane bloke determined to off you? And why is he having such a hard time doing it? I mean look at you…"

Dudley gestured absently to Harry's thin frame, noticing the grimace that passed over his cousin's face a second too late.

"I don't mean I want you dead! I…it just seems ridiculous that this apparently almighty w-wizard can't kill a teenager."

Harry pushed his anger away, as frankly he happened to agree with Dudley.

"Honestly, I'm just really _really_ lucky…and I have some great friends," Harry said, pushing his fingers through his hair. Of course, this made it stick up in every direction, but at the moment he did not care very much.

"But why is he trying to kill you in the first place. You're just some normal kid, right? Well…except for the whole magic thing."

Harry noticed that Dudley did not stumble on the previously forbidden word this time. He was a little impressed; at least Dudley was willing to try accepting him to a degree. Even so, no matter how different Dudley might seem, Harry was not about to chance telling him the prophecy.

"I'm unfinished business. He keeps trying to kill me, but all of his attempts fail. I make him look incompetent."

"So…" Dudley pondered, scratching his head a little. "He kidnaps your friend and controls my Dad."

"He's getting desperate. Usually, he puts all of his efforts into one ultimate attack, but obviously that isn't working."

Harry continued answering questions, for what seemed like hours. It was a little refreshing to have such a straight forward conversation with someone who did not fear Voldemort irrationally – although that was probably because Dudley did not know or understand all the horrors Voldemort had caused.

Moreover, the questions forced Harry to analyze his enemy from a less personal point of view, and he surprised himself with how well he apparently knew his adversary. Everyone he was acquainted with in the wizarding world grew up immersed in the stories, so no one asked the basic questions: who, what, when, where; although, the why was under constant scrutiny.

"So, what are you going to do about this?"

"Right now, I don't know; nothing, I guess. I'm a prisoner here until…something happens."

"But they always treat you like an adult…"

"Who?" Harry asked, eyebrows furrowed, not remembering any such instances.

"Those people who keep coming into the house." Harry could tell from Dudley's express that his cousin disliked the intrusion about as much as his uncle. "They always tell you what's going on…most adults just ignore kids."

While Harry recognized that, yes, the Order did share some information with him; he did not feel that it was nearly enough considering his position. Understandably, Dudley did not know Harry was at the center of the war whether he wanted the responsibility or not, but he was not about to enlighten his cousin.

"Do things like this happen to you a lot?" Dudley asked, shifting the topic slightly.

"What do you mean exactly?" Harry responded, not wanting to give too much information away, just in case.

"Attacks, kidnapping, fear…_all of this_," Dudley responded, shivering slightly.

"Not usually as often as everything is happening now, but basically…yeah."

"How do you handle it? I mean your people fixed the problems on our end, but your friend is still missing. And you said he might –"

"I know," Harry interrupted Dudley, not wanting to hear that possibility be put into words again. It made it seem too real. This conversation had been distracting him from what lie beyond the walls of Privet Drive, but all too easily the fear could consume him. "I just have to believe that they'll save him. It's the only thing I _can_ do…_for now_."

Harry whispered the last bit so softly that Dudley did not seem to hear him.

"Why doesn't someone just kill the evil bastard, then? You've seen him so many times, so why doesn't someone just shoot him or something. You've got _magic_."

Harry chuckled darkly at Dudley's naïve response. "The problem is Voldemort has magic too. And he's using all of his to make sure he stays alive."

"Isn't there something he wants? _Something_ you can give him that will make him leave _us_ alone?" Dudley's voice trembled has he demanded an answer.

He shook his head slowly. As he looked into Dudley's eye, Harry was beginning to realize how much fear the people he was living were experiencing due to this newfound danger. For Harry, it was almost a way of life; however, for Dudley, this was a completely new and terrifying sensation.

"Dudley, I-I'm sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen. Everyone was supposed to be safe here."

"Well…it's not your fault, right?" Dudley responded, seeming to gain some of his composure back.

"Right…"

But Harry could not help the feeling that it was.

Near the end of their talk, which consisted mostly of confused expressions from Dudley and failed attempts at explanations from Harry, Harry asked a question that had been plaguing him for most of the night.

"Dudley, no offense intended, but what's with the sudden change in heart? You seemed to hate and fear my world just as much as your parents in the past and even just a few hours ago, but now…"

Dudley stared at his hands for a moment before responding.

"It just seemed _stupid_ after everything that's happened. You saved my life last summer and Dad got…possessed…" Dudley struggled for a moment.

"I kept remembering what happened over the summer while I was at Smeltings; about how my parents blamed you for those demented creators instead of thanking you for saving me. I mean, it's not your fault some crazy person is after you; it can't be, you were a baby. And instead of running away every time something happens, you try to help everyone. Obviously there's good and bad wizards, just like with normal people."

Dudley finished his speech and took a deep breath, looking a little embarrassed. "That doesn't mean I like you though! I still think you're weird…but maybe not a freak."

Harry nodded slowly, "Just so long as that's clear."

Their conversation ended soon after and Harry crawled into bed. His sleep that night was uneasy and plagued with the sound of his friends screaming for help…help he was unable to provide.


	11. Riddles and Watchwords

_Saturday, July 13, 1996_

Breakfast the next day was a somber affair. Having only eaten only one meal the day before, Harry was quite hungry, but he watched his relatives warily as he ate – especially his uncle. He was waiting for the inevitable explosion in which he was thrown out of the house and its supposedly remaining protections.

As the meal dragged on, Harry noticed that neither his aunt nor his uncle were eating any longer, and were instead conversing in low tones that he could not make out. Dudley seemed oblivious to this turn of events and was already on his second helping of bacon.

Wary of this odd behavior, Harry went to excuse himself before even finishing his food, but Petunia and Vernon turned their attentions to him; the latter of whom began to speak.

"Boy, sit back down."

His uncle's voice did not hold nearly the animosity Harry had experienced the last few days, so Harry carefully took his seat.

"Your aunt and I have been discussing how best to handle this…situation," Vernon continued in a strained voice. "These people of yours seem to believe that keeping you here will protect you from the man who took your friend."

Harry made a slight face at classifying Voldemort as a man, but did not interrupt his uncle's speech. He assumed Vernon would come to some sort of conclusion soon.

"_They_ also said that as long as you remain here then that madman will not be able to harm us as well."

"Ah, so that's the card Dumbledore played," Harry thought to himself. He had been wondering how his headmaster planned on convincing them to let him stay after everything that had happened. Whatever Vernon might have said yesterday, Harry had not actually thought his uncle would keep his word.

"Consequently, you are going to do exactly as they told you. In fact, it would be best if you stayed in your room for the remainder of the summer."

Without bothering with a reply, Harry simply stared at his uncle suspiciously. To his dismay, he saw not only the usual disgust and loathing in the man's eyes but also an inkling of fear. He glanced at his aunt and cousin, who was no longer eating, and saw same dread. Voldemort's reign of terror was not supposed to be able to touch him here in the muggle world. And it especially was not supposed to influence his ignorant muggle relatives.

Harry felt his nails cut into his palms, as his hands curled into fists with anger for his longtime nemesis. These people wanted nothing to do with the magical world, and as much as Harry might dislike them for this attitude, they did not deserve to live in fear. This condition was something that Harry himself had been denying for years, and he was not about to give in now. He would not let Voldemort make his life one of terror and paranoia.

With a slight nod at his relatives, revealing nothing of the emotions rolling inside of him, Harry returned to his food. This response seemed enough to satisfy everyone and silence filled air.

Soon after, as he walked up the stairs, Harry remembered his display of emotions yesterday. Usually only his most verbal and obvious emotions, mostly anger and fear triggered accidental magic. He had experienced a lot of emotions yesterday, but no more than in the recent past. Moreover, the feel of the magic was different than when he was younger.

It used to be that something suddenly just happened – like when he blew up his aunt. However, yesterday it seemed like it was just leaking out and affecting things. Of course, when he wanted to use wandless magic nothing happened. Shaking the uneasy feeling these thoughts caused, Harry entered his room and sat on the window sill gazing outside.

He had not much cared about going out, but now that he was forbidden he longed to try and pick up running again – anything to get him out of this cramped house and make him stronger.

Harry had the owl treats in his hand before he remembered that Hedwig had not yet returned from her delivery to Hogwarts. Her trips recently seemed to take longer and longer. At Hogwarts, there had been several days on end when he did not see here, but during the summer she tended to stick around and keep him company. He hoped to catch a glimpse of her sleek figure in the sky, but all he saw were gathering storm clouds. Apparently, his _guards_ were going to get a soaking soon.

On the other side of the street, Mrs. Figg was following a couple of cats sedately down the sidewalk. She was probably part of the guard watch his house. As she came closer, Harry realized that he recognized one of the cats. Squinting his eyes against the sun emerging from behind the clouds, Harry noticed the peculiarly shaped markings around the feline's eyes. With a start, he recognized Professor McGonagall.

As he watched, she paused by the other cat and began meowing. If he remembered correctly, Mrs. Figg's cats were actually kneazles, at least partly, and were especially good at judging people's characters. Crookshanks had apparently been able to communicate with Snuffles in some form or fashion.

Unfortunately, these thoughts resurface painful memories of his Godfather. Sighing in frustration, Harry rested his head against the window. He was not going to allow the situation to repeat itself.

This was the second time in two weeks that Voldemort had attacked his friends. Harry did not know if this was a new strategy or something else, but it had to stop. Sooner or later, Voldemort's plan was going work and Harry would do something stupid. He could barely handle the attacks when they were aimed solely at him; this new tactic was more effective than he was willing to admit. Just the idea that Voldemort was going after his friends was enough to make Harry want to face the wizard by himself. Now that he was actually doing it, Harry did not know how long he could force himself to remain imprisoned.

For now, at least, he needed something to distract himself. Just studying the spells was obviously not helping much as he was not able to use them during an actual battle. And right now he did not feel as though he could retain any useful information. What he really needed was permission to practice magic; it was utterly pointless to be unable to train now. Someone was trying to kill him and he was powerless magically. Furthermore, he had no idea how to train himself to resist an attack mentally or physically.

Harry reached towards his trunk and snagged the knapsack he had taken to Grimmauld Place. Someone had obviously though to return it to him, but he wished that person had also thought to add some books or something to divert his nervousness. What he found instead was the puzzle box he discovered in the parlor. The secret the mystery cube held was enough for Sirius to risk the wrath of his mother, so maybe it was something worth deciphering…or Sirius could have simply been trying to make his mother angry for trapping him in that vile excuse of a home.

Just as Harry was now trapped at Number 4 Privet Drive. Harry held the cube in his hand, his grip becoming tight, as he fumed at the circumstances. His friends were being targeted, he was held prisoner in the one place he hated most in the world, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to improve the situation. If he escaped and bravely but foolishly tried to save his best friend, Voldemort got his wish – Harry's head on a platter. His other choice, to sit tight and obediently in his bedroom, meant slowly going insane with worry and fear.

Harry did not notice that the cube in his hand was now blazing hot until suddenly the heat turned an icy cold. He opened his hand surprise and stared as the bands of silver etched into the onyx stone slowly consuming the inky darkness. When the motion ceased the puzzle box was a pale e silver in color that shimmered as he tilted it against the light. It reminded Harry of the moon on the surface of the water. The burning pain he had suffered moments ago had faded to a pleasantly cool sensation. Harry placed the cube carefully on the windowsill in front of him and warily examined his palm, but there was no evidence of a burn or any other mark from the heat.

Apparently, he had solved the riddle and completed the first stage of the puzzle box…but what in the world was he supposed to do now. Sure, the thing was pretty but that did not give him a hint. Carefully, Harry grasped the cube between two fingers and stared at it. Several seconds passed and nothing happened; although, Harry did notice that the stone seemed lighter in weight than before. It was very smooth and almost soft to the touch. He wiped his finger across the top of the box and noticed that a slight silver sheen coated his fingertip. Whatever this meant, Harry was not sure. It was not any type of stone he recognized, which might be the reason he did not know what to do. Placing the puzzle box on the corner of the desk, Harry resolved to ask Hermione the next time he saw her…which for all he knew would not be until the start of the semester.

As his thoughts turned full circle, a knock come from the door. Harry eagerly open it, dreading returning to her previous morose and useless thinking. To his surprise and consternation, Remus stood on the other side of the doorway.

"Good morning Harry, or should I say afternoon," Remus greeted.

Harry nodded in return. He had remembered that Dumbledore said the man would stop by but he had not been expecting him until sometime later in the day. Harry immediately became wary and grabbed his wand from the nightstand, where it had been sitting since his return (which showed how distracted and foolish he had been since coming back).

"Before you ask," Remus said, holding his hands up in surrender. "The first memory you used to conjure a Patronus was the feeling of riding a broom for the first time, but that wasn't strong enough. It wasn't until you used memories of your parents that you were able to produce a corporeal Patronus. "

Harry lowered his wand and stood aside so that Remus could enter the room. He felt rather foolish for testing everyone every occasion they met but a strange suspicion that he could not quell arose in him each time. He feared that there would be Death Eater behind a friendly façade; he would not put anything past Voldemort after last year. Voldemort had figured out Harry's weakness, but he was not about to let himself be tricked so easily.

Remus seemed to read the emotions passing over Harry's face and silently held out a small object on the palm of his hand. Harry stared blankly at the item for a moment before turning his gaze back to Remus.

"This," Remus explained, "is how the Order members recognize one another. As long as one of these is on our person, there is no need for passwords and such."

"But…what is it?" Harry asked, still just as clueless.

"A Watchword. This one is in its most basic form: a kernel. However, it can be manipulated in almost any manner. Some members wear them as simple rings or necklaces, but others shape them into tooth fillings or toenails."

"How does it work exactly," Harry asked, taking the tiny stone. It had no outstanding characteristics; he was not even sure what color it was…maybe a dull grey?

"Once it's keyed to your personal magical signature and the Order of the Phoenix's created signature, you will be able to intuitively recognize anyone who carries one of these devices. Even if you can't see the actual watchword itself, you will still know if a person has it."

"Couldn't you just steal one then, and nobody would know the difference?"

"The Watchwords only react to original magical signatures they are activated with. If someone else tries to use them, they go dead until reunited with the correct magical signatures."

"So they're failsafe? No matter what happens you can't be tricked by them."

"Not even Polyjuice will fool them. They're created somewhat like wands, except even more personally," Remus explained. "If you accept one, there is process to go through to officially activate it."

Harry had already decided. A guaranteed way to know whether someone was who they say they were? Of course, he would accept it.

"Before you answer, Harry, let me warn you of one thing. If you accept a Watchword, you also accept the responsibility of always carrying it. We will inform all Order members that you have been equipped with a Watchword and if you are ever found without it we will assume you are an impostor."

Harry nodded slowly as he realized the implications. It also explained why some wizards and witches chose to wear theirs in such permanent fashions.

"I'd still want one," Harry replied confidently. "I feel…paranoid have to question everyone's."

"That's what I thought you would say," Remus said, smiling slightly; although, there was a hint of sadness in the smile. "I'll inform Dumbledore and let you know when we'll undergo the procedure. Until then, think of how you want to wear the Watchword. Don't hesitate to ask if you have any questions."

Harry returned to the windowsill, and Remus followed to sit on the stiff wooden desk chair. As their conversation ended, the real reason for Remus' visit came to mind.

"Has anything happened?" Harry asked, knowing Remus would understand his question.

"Nothing yet, I'm afraid, good or bad."

"What's the Order _doing_? Should it be taking this long? It's already been two days…anything could have happened."

"We're doing everything we know to…we've been in these kind of situations before and the worst part is the waiting. Feeling as though there's nothing you can do."

Harry wholeheartedly agreed. That was the very feeling he had experienced since returning to Privet Drive, and he did not need a reminder.

"What can I do. And please don't tell me to sit here like a good boy."

Remus smiled humorlessly at Harry's comment and did not speak for a while.

"That's what most of us are having to do. We've already contacted all of our informants, but only a few the inner circle knew about the attack."

"What about Snape?" Harry interrupted.

"Voldemort has him working on a different matter entirely; although I'm not sure what…"

Absorbed in his thoughts, Remus fell silent for a moment before continuing.

"We don't know where his headquarters are currently, as all the Death Eaters are blindly apparating to him by the call of the Death Mark. He's being especially careful, not that the Ministry knows he's back."

"Fat lot of good it does us. Even if Fudge knows Voldemort's back, the Ministry is still won't acknowledge the attacks."

"Fortunately or unfortunately, Minister Fudge couldn't deny the last attack. Too many people saw or were even attacked by the Death Eaters."

Remus reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a sheaf of papers that was much too large to have emerged from the pocket.

"These are copies of the Daily Prophet from the last couple of days. They give a few accounts of the Second First Battle as they're referring to it now and some opinions. There's not much you don't already know, but it'll give you a general idea of the public's attitude."

The papers were place on the desktop, but Harry was not sure he would read them later. Images from the fight, if he could even call it that, still flashed through his mind unexpectedly. He had only been able to watch as his friends were whisked away to different locations.

"I have to be able to do something next time," Harry said abruptly. "I can't just stand around and be a target."

Harry waited for Remus to respond, but the main simply stared at him apprehensively.

"There _will_ be a next time. As long as he's after me, there will always be another battle."

"As much as it pains me…you're right. But there's simply nothing you can do for the moment. Especially with the magic ban in place," Remus attempted to reason.

"That's ridiculous and you know it," Harry argued, his voice rising slightly. "There is a war going. Not being about to practice magic is unreasonable and above all dangerous. I'm of a mind to ignore the consequences…"

"Calm down, Harry. I'll see what I can do. I agree with you, now more than ever. But for now, just wait. There's not use provoking Fudge when he's looking for a reason to discredit you. Revealing Voldemort hurt his reputation greatly, so he's looking for a scapegoat."

Harry did not argue, but he was not sure how much stock he put in Remus' work. Every time the man tried to help him lately, the opposite seemed to come about. First the Godfather suggestion, then returning to Privet Drive…

"If I had been training properly, I might have been able to protect Ron," Harry finally replied.

"You don't know that, Harry. You were up against fully trained wizards using unforgivables. Even adults have trouble handling that kind of situation."

"I've been there before though. I should be able to function during something like – "

"_Harry_." Remus interrupted forcefully and half stood from his chair. "This is _not_ your fault. Voldemort is the reason these attacks are happening."

"Don't you see!" Harry yelled. "If I could just stop him, none of this would happen. Everyone would be safe!"

"So all of this is your fault then," Remus responded, his voice becoming calmer in contrast to Harry's. He leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms lightly over his chest. "If you didn't exist everything would be fine."

"Of course! I'm the reason he's attacking everyone. He wants me!"

"You're a fool if you truly believe that, Harry Potter," Remus stated in a deadly whisper.

A chill crept through the room making the hairs on Harry's arm raise. He paused in his tirade and truly looked at Remus for the first time since they had entered the bedroom. The man's clothes were tattered and fraying as usual, and his face was sallow, but his eyes hard and cold in a way Harry had never seen before.

"S-Sorry?" Harry muttered, confused at the sudden change.

"You, Harry Potter, are a fool if you think this war revolves solely around you. This fight began before you were born, child, and it will continue after your death; maybe not against this specific incarnation of evil but against another."

Remus' expression did not alter as he continued in the same wintry voice.

"Many people have given up their lives with the hope of ending this war and I will not have you desecrating their memories."

Harry sat frozen, unable to respond. He had rarely seen Remus so upset and was ashamed he was the cause of it. He wanted to apologize but he knew the confession would seem false and only a mere response to Remus' anger.

Remus paused and kept his gaze on Harry for several long seconds. It was not like the stare of the reprimanding teacher Harry had experienced at Hogwarts, or even the disappointed look that made him feel regretful. Instead, Remus' eyes were filled with anger, so very cold. However, even as Harry's foreboding grew, Remus' eyes softened and regained some of their usual caring nature.

"Nevertheless…I know that was not your true intention. I only want you to understand that if you defeated Voldemort this moment or even if you did not exist to begin with, everything would not be perfect."

"That makes everything seem so…so futile," Harry whispered, hugging his knees.

"Perhaps, but it also allows us to realize that we are part of grander scheme. If we give up here, then Voldemort might win…or…someone else somewhere far away could take up the banner and continue the fight. That's my hope."

"But the same thing applies for the other side too."

"That's right, which is why we can't give up. It gives us a reason to keep one fighting. Maybe someday, maybe tomorrow, we can discover of way to stop evil for all time."

What Remus' did not mention was that Voldemort could do the same, Harry thought uneasily - which was why they had to keep on fighting no matter what. It was a circular argument, but Harry realized that it did have some merit.

"Well, it wasn't my intention to come here and depress you further, but that's seems to be what I've done," Remus commented regrettably.

"'S not your fault," Harry mumbled into his knees.

"Come on," Remus commanded, on his feet. "Up you get."

"Wha…why? Where?" Harry asked, allowing Remus to pull him from the windowsill.

"Downstairs. You might not be able to leave the house, but you can at least get out of the room."

"I don't think my relatives would like that…"

"Don't worry, I sent them on an errand already."

Remus led Harry into the kitchen and began shuffling through the cupboards. He snatched random items from the shelves until he had a rather large selection of ingredients piled on the counter-top.

"Er…" Harry uttered smartly, running a hand through his hair.

Harry knew how to cook for the most part, having been forced to do so growing up, so it was not his favorite activity. Furthermore, he usually only handled breakfast and maybe lunch…the ingredients that Remus had thrown together looked more along the lines of dinner.

"I guess it's better than what I was doing before," Harry muttered.

Still, he felt like Remus was trying to keep him occupied. As he had worried the day before, the Order had sent over a baby sitter to prevent him from doing anything reckless.

"Remus, this really isn't necessary…"

"Humor me, Harry. It's either this or eating by myself at headquarters."

"Well, if you put it that way…"

"And my not know it, but I'm actually a pretty good cook. Living as a bachelor can do that to you."

Not really knowing one way or another, Harry shrugged noncommittally.

"What do you need me to do."

"You can chop these vegetables, and I'll start the pastry."

He picked up a knife and began dicing the potatoes. There was also turnips and onion, along with some beef steak.

"What exactly are we making?"

"Cornish Pasties…from scratch. I think your aunt will impressed."

"Hmm…"

"And for dessert a blancmange and jelly trifle."

Harry raised his eyebrows in response.

"I've haven't cook muggle style in a while, so I thought I'd go all out."

"Muggle style," Harry muttered to himself. He'd never really heard the phrase, but it made sense that normally Remus would use magic to whip up a meal.

Harry continued preparing the ingredients as Remus directed, and soon the pasties were in the oven. They just so happened to have all the ingredients necessary for the trifle already on hand, which Harry suspected Remus had a hand in, so they immediately began preparing the pudding as well.

Despite himself, Harry actually enjoyed cooking alongside Remus. The man was easy to get along with and seemed to appreciate having the company just as much as Harry. If it was not for the constant tension hovering in the back of his mind, Harry truly would have valued spending time with his parent's old friend.

It took several hours, and Remus cheated a little towards the end and used his, but eventually both the Cornish pasties and the trifle were ready to eat. Harry reached to snag one of the pasties, but Remus slapped his hand away.

"Ah ah ah," Remus admonished. "Not until everyone's ready for dinner. Have a sandwich."

Harry grumbled but made half a bacon, lettuce, and tomato butty. Now that they had put so much effort into the meal, he was looking forward to it; although, not necessarily the people he would be eating it with.

With nothing left to do, he wandered from the kitchen into the sitting room. Considering that this was one of the few times he got the house to himself, Harry stretched out on the couch and turned on the telly. After going so long without the contraption, the shows he flipped through held little interest. Eventually, he settled on a news channel, wondering if any mention of Voldemort's doing would crop up.

Remus joined him soon after and sat in the arm chair. During a story about a car bombing in Northern Ireland the day before, Remus leaned forward and listened intently. Harry paid more attention to the report, trying to find out what had caught Remus' attention, but nothing seemed to stand out.

After the weatherperson came on, Remus leaned back into the chair but remained silent, staring blankly at the TV screen.

"What?" Harry finally asked. "Did that have something to do with Voldemort?"

"I'm not sure," Remus replied, still staring ahead. "Not Voldemort directly, but probably some of his followers"

"How do you know? The muggles wouldn't be able to tell."

"For one, everyone's denying responsibility, which is odd for such an attack. Usually someone wants the credit. Secondly, the type of attack is one frequently used in cover-ups…homemade bombs, gas leaks, incidents that anyone or no one causes. Moreover, we heard of some active Death Eaters in the area recently, so something like this was expected."

"Shouldn't someone have gone up there to try and stop this? If you know there's going to be an attack, you could help prevent people from getting hurt."

"The appropriate authorities were warned, but unfortunately we're spread too thin as it is to try and protect everyone. We're having enough trouble in our own community."

"It seems like nothing we do hurts Voldemort at all. We're not winning the battles, much less the war."

"We're doing our best to put countermeasures, but the cards are stack against us at the moment. Neither the ministry nor the public wants to believe Voldemort is back, so the only organization fighting him is the Order of Phoenix. It may take some time, but eventually we will be able to put up a decent fight."

"_When?_" Harry asked desperately. He knew even Remus did not have the answer, but he needed evidence that his friends would not be sacrificed.

"It depends, Harry. There are a lot of different factors that we can't control. I can't say for sure, but hopefully soon."

Even with Remus' assurances, Harry still felt the dread that had been following him all day slowly emerging. As the they sat in silence, a car pulled into the driveway and Harry heard his aunt and cousin moving towards the house.

Automatically, he turned off the telly and stood to go upstairs. Remus followed him silently; neither was in the mood to deal with ignorant muggles. Harry returned to his seat on the windowsill and picked up the puzzle box he had forgotten. It was still milky white in color with a silver sheen and Harry was just as clueless. Remus on the other hand seemed surprised to see the object.

"You already solved the first puzzle," he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I kinda forgot I was holding it and this happened."

"You forgot…" Remus trailed off, shaking his head slightly. Only one extremely absentminded or troubled could not notice the pain from holding an inferno.

"Do you know what this is?" Harry asked, staring at the shimmering stone.

After a few moments of silence, Harry glanced up to see Remus staring at the stone as though in a daze.

"Remus? Er…Professor?"

Harry leaned over and waved his hand in front of the man's face, which caused Remus to sit back as though startled.

"Sorry…fascinating stone. I do know what it is, but like I said before – that would be cheating," Remus said with a slight grin.

Harry hmphed in fake annoyance, now suspecting the stone possessed some magical qualities. But how he was supposed to discover them he wasn't sure. He hadn't been entranced by staring at the stone, but Remus took one look and seemed mesmerized. In fact, Remus seemed to be making a particular point not look anywhere near the puzzle box…now he was looking towards the door.

"If you're relatives are home, I suspect it's time for dinner. I put warming and cooling spells on everything, so they should be ready to eat."

Harry grimaced at the mention of magic. His aunt would not be happy a stranger had cooked the meal to begin. If she knew that magic was involved…Harry shuddered slightly in apprehension.

Downstairs, they found Aunt Petunia in the kitchen staring in bewilderment at the food displayed on the counter-tops. She turned at their entrance and seemed even more confused.

"Remus," she gasped recognition flashing through her eyes.

"Hello, Petunia," Remus replied in a pleasant voice. "How have you been?"

"What are you doing here," she asked, ignoring his pleasantries.

"Keeping Harry company," he replied, throwing his arm around Harry's shoulders. "We thought you might be tired after being out and about all day, so we made dinner."

Petunia now looked back at the food with suspicion in her eyes.

"Nothing…nothing _funny_ went into this food, right?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Remus responded, a vaguely perplexed expression appearing on his face.

"You didn't use anything improper to cook it, did you?"

The baffled expression remained on Remus' face; although, Harry saw a slight twinkle in his eye that was worrisome. Apparently, Remus and his aunt knew each other from before, so Harry guessed the Remus also knew how much she abhorred magic. He needed to take things into his own hands before they got out of control. Maybe while Remus was here his aunt and uncle would behave, but once the wizard left…

"No Aunt Petunia, the food's completely normal…no funny business involved."

He felt silly referring to magic as such, but it was preferable to making a scene. He did notice, however, that Remus was directing a slight pout in his direction. After giving the man a glare, Harry pointed towards the food slight and waved his hand slightly. Remus pouted a little more, but removed the spells on the dishes discreetly so that Aunt Petunia would not notice.

The three of them carried the platters of Cornish pasties and a salad Remus had apparently made when Harry left to the dining room table. Aunt Petunia continuously glanced at Remus nervously, obviously wandering whether to treat him as a guest or an intruder. Eventually she seemed to decide.

"I'm afraid Vernon will be coming home soon, and he isn't expecting any guests," she hinted.

"Oh, but I already promised Harry I would stay for dinner. And besides, I helped cook this delicious looking food."

Aunt Petunia looked like she wanted to tell him exactly what she thought of his helpfulness, but reigned in her temper as the front door opened.

"Good news, Petunia! They've accepting me at Venecon's Hand Tools."

"Venecon's…I don't believe I've heard of it," Petunia responded.

Vernon was so caught up in his story; he had not noticed Remus and Harry standing beside the dinner table.

"They're a smaller company located outside of town and my position's not quite as good as the one I had at Grunnings, but it's not too shabby."

"That's good dear," Petunia replied distractedly, taking a quick look at Remus and making a shooing motion. The man just smiled.

"Bring out the sherry!"

"Vernon, we have a guest," Petunia started hesitantly.

"Even better, who's visiting," Vernon said looking around.

The moment he spotted Remus standing beside Harry, he stopped dead in his tracks; his expression of happiness turning to one of first confusion then irritation.

"One of you people again," Vernon spat, his face becoming red. "Why do you keep showing up. I told that old codger I wasn't going to stand for anymore!"

"We're going through some hard times right now, as I'm sure you understand, especially Harry."

"That's still no excuse –"

"I'm afraid it is, Mr. Dursley. Until this situation is resolved, you may be seeing quite a bit more of us."

"Then go do something about it! Don't stand around entertaining this brat when you could be fixing the problem."

Remus' expression darkened at Vernon's statement, and Petunia noticed the change in atmosphere.

"Vernon, dear, why don't we just sit down and have dinner. I'm sure Mr…Moony will be leaving right afterwards."

Without further discussion everyone sat at the table, including Dudley who was lured downstairs by the scent.

"Moony?" Harry mouthed at Remus, once they started eating.

"She probably forgot my last name and that's what everyone used to call me so…" Remus whispered back.

"What are you whispering about," Vernon interrupted, staring at them suspiciously. "If you're planning something…"

Dudley looked up from his meal in confusion. He had noticed Remus upon sitting down, but glanced at his appearance and dismissed him just as quickly.

"How do you like the pasties, Vernon," Petunia asked in an overly loud voice, placing another one onto his plate.

"Delicious as usual," Vernon replied, allowing himself to be distracted but still keeping an on the guest. "Although, you seem to have used a new spice or something…what is it?"

"Oh, you noticed," Aunt Petunia replied flustered. She glanced around the table tensely, obviously trying to think of an appropriate response. She had barely touched her meal out of nervousness.

"I thought I saw you adding some thyme while you were cooking," Remus interjected casually.

"Yes, that was it. Not something I usually use, but I thought it would enhance the favor."

Vernon nodded in agreement and continued eating. Petunia sighed in relief and took a bite of her own pasty; she seemed surprised but somewhat pleased with the taste.

The dinner continued in silence, and Harry found himself becoming less and less interested in the food. It seemed almost surreal to be sitting in a house eating dinner when such dreadful things were happening outside. When his aunt served dessert, Harry merely poked at the trifle he had been looking forward to earlier. Remus seemed to notice his attitude but was reluctant to bring it up in the current company.

Once everyone finished eating and the table was cleared, Vernon began staring at Remus expectantly. Harry left the table, not wanting to hear another argument, and Remus followed closely after.

"I can stay if you want me to, Harry."

"No it's fine. It's not like there's anything to do in here anyway."

"Are you alright? You seemed a little down during dessert."

"I'm fine," Harry replied with a shrug.

"If you're sure…" Remus said reluctantly. "I'll return to headquarters and bring you any updates tomorrow, alright?"

"Sure."

Remus left with worry apparent in his expression, and Harry returned to his room. The Dursleys probably wanted to yell at him for having 'one of those people' here, but he really did not feel like putting up with them now. Harry fell across his small bed and wondered if his friends were alright. No one seemed to know anything – whether Ron was hurt, tortured…dead – nothing. How was he supposed deal with this without any information?

This was Dumbledore they were talking about; the man was supposed to have all the answers. Not so deep in his heart Harry knew this wasn't true, but he wanted to blame someone. If only he had been prepared, if only he had protected them. Without Remus there to talk him out of the idea, his arguments seemed a lot more substantial. If Voldemort would only target him, then his friends would be safe; or if Voldemort had a reason not to hurt his friends. They're must be something he could do.

"Surely you can think of _something_, Potter."

A blaze of pain filled his head and Harry bolted out of the bed in shock. He looked frantically around the room, his hand pressed firmly against his scar. Who was there?

"Guess again."

Voldemort, Harry realized with dread. The blinding pain in his head was proof. This was not supposed to be happening. The blood protection…

"…is failing. You know the truth. You can't escape from me."

"Give Ron back," Harry demanded, both aloud and in his mind.

"But why? It's so amusing to entertain a guest and we haven't had one in so long"

"You bastard, what have you done to him!"

"Not much, yet…but that can change. You know what I truly want after all."

"Me," Harry though, his stomach rolling. He already knew how this conversation would go.

"They're guarding me, I can't escape."

"Trapped in your own home, Potter? I guess you won't be seeing your friend then."

Harry ground his teeth in frustration and fear.

"So come and get me. You're way obviously isn't working."

"Perhaps, but it is entertaining to watch you squirm."

Voldemort's words were just as infuriating, but Harry noticed that the pain was beginning to recede. He was not trying to force the wizards from his mind, unlike last time, because he wanted information. Instead, it seemed that Voldemort was unable to keep up the contact. In fact, that was probably what happened last time too. It was foolish of him to believe he had actually succeeded in any sort of Occulmency.

"Where are you? I'll go to you!" Harry yelled desperately.

"Oh, it's not that easy Potter. But don't worry, we'll meet soon enough."

With those parting words, the pain vanished and Harry sat heavily on the floor in relief. He was utterly exhausted but more upset than ever. Voldemort had basically admitted to torturing Ron, and Harry was sitting on his bum in Privet Drive. He could even talk to the man who had kidnapped his best friend, but there was no list of demands or anything to work with. He could only wait.

Harry crawled into his bed and fell into an exhausted sleep. For awhile no dreams disturbed his rest, but all too soon Harry's only desire was to awaken once again.


End file.
